A Real Boy, Pinnochio
by IronyRocks
Summary: Written for the S4/S5 Fix It Challenge over at livejournal, prompt: "This Mortal Coil" based fic, where Repli!Elizabeth and John's replicator!team survive the end of the episode. What are their stories of adventure'. Shep/Weir
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** A Real Boy, Pinocchio.  
**Author: Irony_Rocks**  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Pairing:** Sheppard/Weir, Teyla/Rodney  
**Warning(s):** Language  
**Category:** NOT angst fic! WOOT! It is action/adventure. Drama. Romance. Teamfic. Word count: 25k.  
**Prompt:** Written for the _S4/S5 Fix It Challenge_ over at livejournal, "This Mortal Coil" based fic, where Repli!Elizabeth and John's replicator!team survive the end of the episode. What are their stories of adventure? Summary of the episode: _In a duplicate city of Atlantis, a rebel faction of Asurians make replicas of Sheppard and his team, as well as Elizabeth, into entirely organic copies built by Replicator nanites and given memories and personalities recorded when the Replicators probed their minds the previous year ("Progeny"). The Replicator!Team Sheppard and Repli!Elizabeth eventually make contact with the real Atlantis, but at the end of the episode, they are captured by the Asurians and presumed killed._  
**Summary:** *points to prompt*  
**Disclaimer:** SGA does not belong to me, otherwise do you think I'd be trying to fix it with fanfiction?  
**A/N:** This fic answers the question of what would have happened if they survived the episode. I took a big dose of artistic liberty in making up a bunch of abilities that the replicator!Team could have, so it may or may not follow canon's so-called science. *shrugs*  
**A/N #2:** This is my last SGA fic EVER. Whoa. Stargate Atlantis will always be my first true love, even if a few of those seasons sucked like a big giant vacuum of suckiness. Still, the fandom rocked and I will miss you! (P.S. Also, I continue to blame _Burn Notice_ for this fic.)

* * *

  
**Part I**

It felt like months since John had a good night's sleep. Imprisonment, nightmares, unsecure locations and rough loggings had pretty much screwed over any sense of normal sleeping patterns John had, once upon a time, in that nebulous period before he was… John stopped short, almost laughing. He was about to say _before he woke up to realize he was a half-nanite, half-human experiment_, but then he remembered he didn't actually exists before then.

Lt. Colonel John Sheppard did, but _he_ wasn't John Sheppard. Not the real, anyway.

Cursing to himself as old grumblings rose, John threw back the covers and climbed to his feet. An owl-like creature hooted once outside his window and John glared. The thin mattress beneath him sagged as he shifted weight, quickly tying up the laces of his boots before throwing on a pale blue tunic. Damn, but did he miss his Atlantis uniform. Dressing like a Pegasus native in all these backwater planets was really starting to get old.

Outside, it was refreshing cool night air. He braced his elbows on the banister of the front porch, and let his mind wander listlessly. A few minutes passed by, and then John picked up the telltale sign of the door opening and closing behind him. The weight of the footsteps and the direction they came from meant it was only one person: Elizabeth.

She leaned a hip against the railing, turning to face him. "Couldn't sleep again?"

He grunted. "We're gonna have to leave this place in the morning. Nothing of use to us here. They mentioned that planet – what was it called? Evon?""

"Evenlyn," she corrected. "They're a technologically advanced civilization. We could use one of those as a pit-stop."

John nodded silently in agreement. They spent their days moving from one farm planet to another, without any real clue as to where they would go or what they were planning on doing next. It was an aimless existence until they reached Atlantis, and John hated that feeling.

"Hey," Elizabeth mused in a wry voice, cutting into his thoughts. "You ever notice that when you get tense, you have this really angry vein in your neck that pops out?" He turned to glare at her, but Elizabeth kept the innocent act in place. "Relax, John."

"I am relaxed, Elizabeth," he parodied back in the same chiding tone.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "Just a thought. Poker? Not your game. Yesterday, you fought constantly with Rodney over wh—"

"It was a disagreement. We have a lot of them."

"Not like that. It was petty bickering, and don't think I didn't notice that you were getting unnecessarily rough with Ronon during your sparring session either."

"We can't get hurt," John replied flippantly, waving away the topic with a hand. "Nifty little nanites, remember?"

She sighed heavily. "I know you're getting frustrated—"

"Frustrated? Who, me?" He threw her a half-hearted glare. "Of course not."

She went stiff for a beat, probably taking a moment to will composure so she wouldn't snap at him the same way he'd been snapping at everybody lately. He was being an ass. He knew it. Elizabeth didn't deserve his behavior lately. None of them did, not even Rodney on his worst days. Thing was, knowing it and doing something to stop it were two very different things.

They'd barely managed to escape Oberoth, after months of torture, mindfucks and interrogations. Now they were just drifting through the galaxy. Clarification: for four solid months, they'd been drifting. Traveling in only one dinky puddle-jumper, the Pegasus Galaxy being… well, _huge_. Obviously. They weren't even a quarter of the way to their destination (assuming Atlantis hadn't pulled up stakes and moved again). John still had no idea what they'd say or do once they arrived at the city.

He took a breath, and turned around, settling side-by-side with Elizabeth against the railings. Their shoulders brushed with slight contact, and John tried not to focus on the slim white sleeping gown Elizabeth had on, the sleeveless one that left a lot of skin exposed at her collarbone. He never got to see her dressed like that on Atlantis. One of the very few pluses he got these days.

"I know things are rough right now," Elizabeth said softly after several minutes of silence. "I know we're all agitated, but things will get better."

"I know," John said, because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

He wondered what the other John Sheppard was doing right now, on Atlantis. He didn't relish the idea of seeing his other self again. Things were hard enough to handle without coming face-to-face with the living proof that, _hello_, you're nothing but a cheap knockoff.

She turned to him and offered a slim smile. "Just… try to relax? Go easy on Rodney tomorrow. He's getting cranky too, and that's a punishment on all of us."

He snorted a laugh. "Yeah, all right."

"Good."

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't sleep either?" he asked, even though it really wasn't a question.

She paused, a shadow crossing over her face and John could read her so easily. Nightmare, he called. If what John suffered at the hands of Oberoth was bad, then he knew Elizabeth dealt with twice that amount. He had no idea how she managed to survive those first few months all by herself. At least here, now, with all the things John found annoying and bothersome, he still had his team. He still had Elizabeth. It was probably what kept him sane – as sane as he could keep, anyway.

"It's nothing," she assured him. "I'm headed back to bed now. I'll catch you in the morning?"

He nodded. "Night."

She left without another word and John watched her go.

* * *

As John swept his gaze about the landscape of Evenlyn, he could pick up a dozen different things that made this planet stand out from its predecessors. Instead of the usual farmer's market, or a village or a castle or some other third-world civilization, John found that just beyond the steps of the Stargate was a mall – an honest-to-god shopping mall. He nearly blinked in stupefied shock.

A few women brushed passed them, carrying bags of purchases and adorned in far too little clothing. They were dressed in neon halter-tops and short skirts, and John stared for a little too long if Teyla's pointed glare in his direction was any indication. In his defense, at least he wasn't drooling like Rodney.

"Well," Elizabeth said, trying not to beam. "Maybe this place will work out for us?"

Rodney finally managed to pick his jaw up off the floor. "Yes, well, let's not get too excited. They've managed to beat out the last six planets we've visited, but then again, so could certain episode of the _Flintstones_. I want to see what they have in way of transportation and accommodations before we throw a celebratory party and declare this planet the next Earth."

Ronon grunted, coolly sweeping his eyes over everything. "This place doesn't look like it's had to deal with the Wraith for some time."

Rodney snapped his fingers in quick succession. "Maybe they have some sort of orbital satellite that could keep the Wraith at bay, like we saw on 3XS-4S—"

"First things first," John cut in quickly, slapping his hands together. "I'm gonna see if they have indoor plumbing. If they've got that, then we know we're dealing with some smart folks."

Elizabeth smiled approvingly. "Good idea." She nodded to the others. "Go, spread out. Find out everything you can."

Teyla and Rodney went off in one direction, Ronon broke off and disappeared into the crowd by himself, and John strolled by Elizabeth's side through the mall. "So," John said, lifting on the balls of his feet to peer over the crowds. "Where to, first?"

* * *

They met back up for lunch.

"They have their own monetary system here," Teyla explained. "They do not barter."

John frowned, trading a look with Elizabeth. They'd found out as much, too. The really strange thing about the planet was that it was only half-modernized. It had a mall and other modern facilities, but apparently around the corner there were marks of a rural society as well. Taverns, lodgings, people dressed as peasants, the whole nine yards. The planet had quite the dichotomy.

But all of it, apparently, ran on a monetary system called Gwams.

Ronon shrugged. "So, we'll just make money here first."

Rodney sent him a glare. "And how do you propose we do that? Set up a wrestling match between you and random idiots, and profit from the spectacle?"

"Actually," Elizabeth cut in. "We're gonna need you, and John. Both of you."

Rodney looked blankly at her. "For a wrestling match?"

"Yeah, Meredith, exactly," John mocked, reaching over to slap him upside the head. He spoke over Rodney's sputtered indignation, "Elizabeth and I heard about a casino-type place on the outskirts of the city, called _Neski's._"

"Casino?" Teyla asked, confused.

Elizabeth nodded. "Have any of the boys ever mentioned Vegas to you?"

Teyla arched an eyebrow, and John averted his gaze immediately. "It was brought up once, but I think the reference had something to do with a "stripper named Mandy" that had shown John a good time in his misspent youth."

Elizabeth looked over at him, a dark sparkle of amusement in her eyes, and John's ears turned red. "Misspent youth!" he insisted. "You can't blame me for that!"

Elizabeth cleared her throat, trying to stifle a grin. "In any case, a casino is a place that accommodates certain types of gambling activities."

"Like poker?" Teyla replied, familiar with the game. She'd once bluffed her way through half John's stash of chocolates. "And Blackjack?"

"Exactly." Elizabeth nodded. "And with these two men over here," she looked to John and Rodney, pointedly, "with their gifts for numbers, I'm hoping we could learn the indigenous games and get some money quickly."

Rodney smiled smugly. "I like that idea."

Ronon glanced away, disinterested in the topic of conversation. "This is going to be boring for the rest of us, isn't it?"

John shrugged. "We could always try the wrestling thing, if you want?"

* * *

_Neski's_ turned out to be a seedy dive.

John titled his chair on its hind two legs, keeping his face a blank mask as he told the dealer to throw him another card. Across the room, he watched from a distance as Rodney worked a separate table and continued to pile up the winnings. It was late into the night, or early in the morning depending on your perspective, and John scrubbed a hand over his face and suppressed a yawn.

The games weren't all that difficult to understand, kind of a mix between poker and baccarat. They were doing astonishing well, counting cards, but there was also a good deal of luck landing on their side as well. John had never had this type of luck in Vegas, that was for damn sure.

"You are not an aristocrat, are you?" The owner of the place, Neski, had been eyeing John all evening. "I can tell."

The games were even controlled by an automotive machine that recognized the ATA gene. Clearly, these people shared roots with the Ancients. It was probably the reason they were so far ahead of any other planet nearby in terms of technology. Though, apparently, only 10% of the population had the gene, almost all aristocrats.

John smiled back. "Nope, just a visitor from out of town."

The owner smiled tightly. Neski was a short man with a body builder's frame, long blonde hair, and a tattoo on his right forearm of some type of winged animal. Clinging to his left arm was his wife, a redheaded vixen named Sentra that dressed just as provocatively as some of the prostitutes in the room.

John drummed his fingers and waited while the other players at his table finished their rounds. Ideally, he reached out with his thoughts to Elizabeth and Ronon, who were seated at the bar nearby. Their nanite-infused bodies made for interesting side-effects. On top of being nearly impossible to kill, Elizabeth had slowly taught all of them on communicating the Asurian way – through what Oberoth often referred to as their collective consciousness.

It was like talking over internal radios… except not really. It was a lot more complicated than that.

He could pick up messages from the others if he honed his senses and opened his mind up to reception. They didn't often utilize this method of communication because, frankly, it creeped the hell out of John to have another person's voice in his head. Even it was only Elizabeth, Rodney, Teyla or Ronon. He liked boundaries; liked space; liked having the headspace to think dirty thoughts that generally would get his ass kicked by either Elizabeth or Teyla, depending on what day of the week it was.

When they communicated like this, thoughts meshed and jumbled together, a stream of consciousness that sometimes made it difficult to tell one thought from another. Especially if there was more than two other people in his head. Plus, there were major side-affects, mainly headaches, and the connection could only last for a limited amount of time.

Frankly, John found it more trouble than it was worth.

Still, during ops like this one, John could acknowledge the tactical advantage. He kept the "radio frequencies" open, and all night long, they'd been feeding each other information and insights.

Ronon stretched his arms over his head. _How much longer is this going to last?_ he asked.

_I don't know,_ Elizabeth answered. _They're on a winning steak. I think it's best to let them decide when to quit._

Ronon slanted her a pointed glance. _You're gonna let Rodney decide when he's done showing off?_

An indignant reply from Rodney was cut short when Teyla walked back into the room, unusually anxious as she joined those at the bar. "I was just informed by a waitress in the back that John and Rodney should retire for the night. The owners of this establishment aren't known to take large losses with a smile on their faces. At least, not to anyone but aristocrats."

"Do they use intimidation or violence?" Ronon asked.

"Violence," Teyla answered. "The last winner ended up losing his left hand."

Without another word, Elizabeth rose and strode over to John. She dropped a hand onto his shoulders and leaned over to whisper in his ear, breath tickling, "We need to pack up and call it a night."

He turned his face toward her. "But I'm still winning bucket loads."

She locked eyes with him. "_Now_, John."

After a beat, he nodded then casually turned to the dealer at the table. "Pack it up," John declared with a cheeky grin. "The misses wants to call it a night."

Elizabeth sent him a glare for that, but let it slide. A few more minutes of packing their things up and getting their cash, the five of them walked out of the establishment into the pre-dawn streets. The internal radios shut off, and everybody thankfully went back to talking like normal human beings. As usual, it left behind a throbbing headache for everybody, but no one complained. Not even Rodney.

"Poor losers," John declared in annoyance, sending a scowl in the direction of the casino. "That type of shit wouldn't fly in Vegas."

"I don't care," Elizabeth responded. "We have more than enough money. No need for trouble."

But trouble ended up following them back to their lodgings.

Teyla and Elizabeth shared a room, and the guys took the chambers opposite them down the hallway. The accommodations were head and shoulders above anything they'd seen in the last four months. That thing earlier about his endless stream of sleepless nights? John had been exaggerating about that, just a bit. On occasion, he'd conk out for at least eight hours and wake up feeling energized for the day ahead of him. As he stripped himself of clothing, he thought he was so exhausted that tonight might be one of those nights.

He made it as far as the mattress, and then the abrupt sound of a gunshot from across the hall chased all exhaustion away. In a blind second, John was up and running, reaching for his handgun on the way out the door. Ronon was right behind him, Rodney fumbling to disentangle himself from his bed sheets, but John was already across the hall. He kicked the girl's door inwards, and found Teyla standing near a shattered window. Elizabeth was off to the side, clutching a robe closed.

"What the hell happened?" John demanded.

Teyla explained, "A man tried to come in through the window. He said he wanted the money back."

"Neski's people?"

"John," Elizabeth cut in, faintly.

But John was suddenly livid with fury. Jaw clenched, he threw a searching gaze about the place and watched as Ronon disappeared, then reentered the room, nodding once to assure him the place was clear. Cold anger took over John, at the people that had done this. All for what? Money? Where was the goddamn principle of—

"John," Elizabeth tried again.

"I don't want to hear it, Elizabeth. These people tried to kill for some lousy—"

Elizabeth's knees buckled under her and she fell to the floor. It took a split second to realize it, and the others responded first. Teyla was at her side, Rodney was on the other, and John just stood there, staring, uncomprehending for nano-seconds that stretched onwards for what seemed like hours. Blood began spreading like a puddle over Elizabeth's shoulder, and then the realization finally hit him.

Elizabeth had been shot.

* * *

"I'm alright, I'm alright," Elizabeth insisted, but she was deathly pale, trembling and the blood was still pooling through her robe. "Nifty little nanites, remember?"

John clenched his jaw and helped her to her feet, moving the others out the way as he guided her across the hall to the guy's room. It was bigger, easier to defend, and had only one access point – the front door. He helped Elizabeth settle against his mattress, then tossed out orders left and right.

"Ronon, secure the location. Set up guard outside. Rodney and Teyla, go talk with the people in the lobby and make up some story about the gunshot. I don't want anyone coming in here tonight asking questions."

"We should leave," Elizabeth protested, winching as she took a breath. "We're not safe here."

"We're not moving you anywhere when you're like this," John declared, making no room for argument.

Nanites helped heal wounds, but John had suffered enough inflictions to know things weren't that simple. It took a lot out of their bodies every time they had to heal, and the graver the wound, the bigger the toll it took. Elizabeth's gunshot would have killed a normal person; as it was, she looked pale and trembling, and her body was still probably going into shock.

She needed to rest for a few hours, and he wasn't going to force her to run in this condition because of some goddamn sore losers.

John turned back to find that the others were still standing there. "Now," he barked. "While we'll still young?"

They left abruptly, and John helped Elizabeth settle back against the bedpost. "I'm fine," she insisted stubbornly. "We should leave."

He ignored her appeal, turning on the bedside light. "Let me look at the wound."

She was dressed in a light thin robe, and really not a lot else. As he helped untie the robe and peel away the material, he normally would have been awkward and red-faced at the amount of skin exposed. She was completely naked from the waist up, but there was too much blood, and John's head filled with pleasant, violent scenarios of what he'd do to the man that shot her.

"See?" Elizabeth breathed, letting her eyes fall closed in relief. "It's already healing."

John wiped away the blood to realize she was right. A little battle triage had determined that nothing was permanently damaged, but she was clammy, her pulse thready underneath his fingertips. The bullet had gone through and through, and the wound closed up right before his eyes. She was still entirely too pale, though. Slow to respond. He saw a crawl of goose bumps break out over her skin, so as soon as he was done cleaning her up, he rummaged through his bag for some spare clothing and helped her change into a dark tunic that swamped her to the hips.

He had a lot of fantasies over the years about undressing Elizabeth, about seeing her with one of his shirts on and nothing else, but none of them included blood.

"Hey," Elizabeth soothed, catching his hands. "I'm alright, John. I'm fine."

He tried for a flippant tone, "Aren't I supposed to be the one comforting you?"

But the scenario wasn't remotely funny. It brought to the forefront nightmares and garish memories of the months spent where he'd thought she was _dead_. It was shocking how that sometimes snuck up on him, right from behind, only to blindside him with a sucker punch of familiar grief. It probably wasn't too surprising that the sight of her bleeding from a gunshot wound made him feel entirely out of control.

"How you feeling?" he asked, licking his lips. "You need anything?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, I'm just… I'm cold."

Right. Shock. Her body just needed to rest.

Gently, he helped Elizabeth pull back the covers of his bed and climb in. He blanketed the thick comforter over her, then stood there with his arms crossed, watching her with a pinched expression of worry on his face. Exhaustion quickly started to win over Elizabeth, but as she shivered from fatigue and shock, John decided to take one further step of action. After a brief second of indecision, he circled around the mattress and climbed on from the other side.

She was tucked under the blankets, and John settled his frame alongside her over the comforter. He didn't want to make this awkward for her, just wanted to provide her with some measurement of body heat, but when he tossed an arm across her waist, she immediately burrowed closer to him. Her hair tickled his nose, and he felt the movement of her chest as she took in a deep drag of air.

"Thanks," she mumbled, as she released a sigh.

He found he couldn't use his voice, so he just nodded, pressing her closer to his body while being as mindful to her sore shoulder as he could be. The wound had already fully healed, but he was still paranoid and diligent. As sleep overtook her quickly, John laid awake beside her.

He was going to _kill_ the bastard that shot her, with his bare hands if he could. That all-consuming rage and frustration that had been steadily building for the last four months finally discovered a new target, and John was only happy to find something worthy to unleash it on.

These bastards had screwed with the wrong people.

* * *

  
**Part II**

In the morning, Elizabeth acted as if nothing was wrong at all.

There wasn't even a scar to show for her troubles, and she'd been insisting for some time on getting the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible. John wasn't willing to let the incident slide so easily.

"They tried to kill you, Elizabeth," he repeated, jaw squared with stubbornness. "That deserves some response."

She signed heavily, and he could tell she was taking a moment to regain composure before she dared continue. He wasn't even sure how this had happened, but the discussion had escalated into fight and Elizabeth squared off against him, both of their stubbornness butting heads.

"We still have the money, and I'm fine. Rodney is going to buy the supplies we need, and then we can move on. Think with a level head."

"I do have a level-head," John retorted. "Yours is the one that stuff would roll off of."

"John—"

"No. Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen."

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a second, exasperated. "Why?"

"Am I a broken record here? Because you were shot, that's—"

"No," Elizabeth cut in abruptly, rising as her eyes flashed with fire. "What's the real reason, John? You're the military guy. Shouldn't you be saying that we're in enemy territory and have no reason to stick around? So why, John? Give me one good rational reason besides _I'm pissed as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore_. Why should we stay?"

He couldn't understand why she didn't get this. There were principles and ways of doing something, of reacting, and whenever one of his people got shot, John reacted. The fucking nanites in his body hadn't changed that much.

"You're angry," she accused. "You've _been_ angry, and now you're just looking for a fight, John. I know you. I'm upset about what happened too, but look at the bigger picture. These people have advanced technology, probably derivatives of Ancient technology."

"So we tuck tail and run? We can't die! Or at least not by 90% of the things out there that can kill. We're not walking into mortal danger."

"We're in a world where we don't know the rules, the politics, we don't know what type of trouble we're getting into. For all we can guess, these people are as powerful as the Mafia or a state government. You don't just decide to go in guns blazing at the drop of a hat."

"Elizabet—"

"No, John!" she exclaimed harshly. "We have to keep moving. We leave this planet as soon as Rodney buys what he needs."

He stared at her for a few seconds, ears ringing with her abrupt denial – her _order_. If it weren't for the fact that he spent the last night worried sick over her condition, he would have taken this fight another six rounds, easily. But he knew that stubborn look in her eyes, and he knew the fight would do nothing but test her patience and nerves. Not to mention tax her energy.

Itching for something to do, he grabbed his handgun and tucked it under his waistband. He pivoted to leave the room without another word, nodding stiffly towards Ronon on his way down the corridor. The big guy would take care of security. Right now, John just needed to work off some energy. He almost ran headfirst into Teyla and Rodney, who were rounding the corner coming back from the lobby.

"Go back and keep an eye on Elizabeth," John ordered tersely. "I'm going for a walk."

Teyla and Rodney traded a look. "John," Teyla spoke carefully. "Why don't you and I get breakfast? Rodney can return to Elizabeth."

"I'm not hungry—"

"That wasn't a request," Teyla cut in, smiling in that serene way that usually meant she was about to kick his ass. "Come with me."

* * *

The restaurant downstairs was nearly deserted as John and Teyla sat down for a late breakfast. Teyla ordered for both of them, always more familiar with the Pegasus dishes than he'd ever be. They waited until their orders were taken, and then Teyla swiveled her dark eyes towards John, and he tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

He'd already had it out with Elizabeth; he wasn't looking for a repeat performance with Teyla. Sure, both women started out with sweet smiles and soft assurances, but John always walked away from a disagreement with either one feeling like his stomach was in knots, whether he won the argument or not.

"John," Teyla began.

"Ah!" John held up a hand. "I know what you're going to say."

"I highly doubt that."

"Please, Teyla. I've known you long enough to know that _don't be such an ass, John_ look."

"And yet, you continue to be an ass. That doesn't say much of your learning curve, does it?" She offered him that amused smile. "Besides, that wasn't what I was going to say."

"Then what?" he snapped.

She paused, then held up a hand. "Never mind. If you are in this mood, there's no use in trying to talk to you."

"Oh, no," he protested angrily. "Now you've started this, then we'll finish it."

"John, lately all one has to do to "start" something with you is wake up in the morning."

And here they went again, the old John-stop-being-an-ass conversation. Didn't he call this? He totally called this. The waiter returned with their mugs, and Teyla settled back in her chair and stared out at the veranda. John scratched the back of his neck, slipped on his sunglasses, and let the silence brew until he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm just tired," he snapped, without even meaning to. "I'm tired of doing the same thing, day after day, week after week. What are we doing out here?"

Teyla's eyes softened with sympathy. "We all feel disconnected without Atlantis—"

"Fuck Atlantis," John barked angrily. "It already has a John, and a Teyla, and a Rodney and a Ronon. You wanna know the truth? Fine. Here it is: Atlantis doesn't need us. Nobody does. They'll throw us out on our asses, or lock us up, or_worse_."

It felt like that had been bottled up inside him for too long – way too long. A flood had been opened, and though it stung like hell, it was only the truth. They had to open their eyes to see that.

And now that he had started, he couldn't stop.

"Atlantis doesn't want us," John continued with a hard edge in his voice, "and with good reason. I'm tired of trying to pretend reaching Atlantis will be our saving grace. It won't. It'll be like the last six planets we visited. It'll be like Evenlyn. A quick stop before we're forced to move again, and you know what? Fuck that."

Silence settled in the wake of John's declaration, and he realized his ranting had drawn stares from others nearby. He reigned in his emotions and turned away from Teyla's knowing gaze, taking a steadying breath to calm his nerves.

This was all something he could never say to Elizabeth. They'd all give up their lives in a heartbeat to save that city, but Elizabeth was in love with Atlantis in a way he wasn't sure even _he_ understood. She loved it more than anything, more than anyone. The thought of returning there was what kept her brave face in place after waking up from nightmare after nightmare, after living through the things done to her. He couldn't take that hope away from her; John didn't have it in him to be that cruel.

_She is stronger than you think_, Teyla's voice filtered into his head.

John snapped his head up, realizing he'd been projecting his thoughts to her over their shared consciousness without even realizing it. Cursing to himself, he slammed the connection shut and replayed his thoughts to see if anything had betrayed emotions he didn't want revealed.

"I know how strong she is," he said at length, looking away. "I know what she can take. Atlantis is everything to her."

Teyla paused. "I think you're overlooking something Elizabeth loves more than the city, and that is her people. That is…" she sighed heavily, suddenly looking tired and exasperated. "John, sometimes you are blind to things staring you right in the face."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Teyla locked gazes with him, and he squirmed again. "It means you are a blind fool if you think Elizabeth cares only for a city," she said bluntly, "and not for _you._"

John turned away, suddenly uncomfortable with the implications of what was being said. John didn't _want_ those types of things acknowledged out loud. His feelings for Elizabeth had always been messy and complicated, and he'd always had an inkling that they were reciprocated in kind. Lately, after reuniting with her, it was getting harder to keep those emotions in check. Things kept happening – touches, looks, half-uttered phrases that said too much – they all kept slipping through the cracks more and more.

The fact that he slept in the same bed as Elizabeth last night, and no one had batted an eyelash in response, probably said a helleva lot too.

"It's not like that," he protested, but it was a hollow phrase and Teyla merely arched an eyebrow. "It's not," he insisted, with a tad more force. "We have… we're good friends. Just friends."

Teyla waited a beat, and then her eyes drifted to some distant spot over his shoulder towards the horizon. "I've found that friendship leads to the deepest of loves. Even unexpected love, the type that does not make sense to anyone else. One day, you see your friend, and it can be as harmless as a simple touch and then things change. You see him in a new light, and…" she finally looked back at John, and explained, "everything changes."

He eyed her, because as good as Teyla had gotten at reading him, he wasn't so bad when the tables had turned. "We're not talking about me and Elizabeth anymore, are we?"

She smiled enigmatically, and kept silent. The waiter returned with their food, thus marking the end of the conversation. John wasn't as dumb as he played sometimes; he could grasp emotional complexities as much as the next guy over and Teyla's words evoked curiosity. He wondered if she was talking about someone in her past… or someone right now.

He shook his head, as if to physically dispel the curiosity. He had enough things to worry about without pontificating over his teammate's possible love life. His face scrunched up momentarily, thrown by the mere idea that Teyla could _have_ a love life, and really, that said a lot about how ass-backwards he had become. Of course Teyla could have a love life. She was a gorgeous kick ass woman.

_Ronon?_ he mused briefly.

No, scratch that. They always acted more like brother and sister than anything.

"John," Teyla cut into his thoughts with a smile. "Eat your breakfast before it goes cold."

* * *

The rest of the morning proved uneventful. At least, at first.

Rodney and Ronon left to purchase the supplies they needed, and Teyla went up to join Elizabeth in their room. John was too restless to sit still, though. He needed something to do, something that would get his mind off Teyla's conversations and implications he'd rather not dwell on.

John found himself wandering down unfamiliar streets towards quiet neighborhoods. Poor neighborhoods. As he moved through the crowded areas of Evenlyn, he tried to soak up everything he could.

There was a stark difference in the life between of an aristocrat and a blue-collar worker; John quickly read as much in the history of the faces he saw in the local factory workers. Aged faces, with dark hard-earned wrinkles. He kept walking, down and further, passed a residential area into the outright slums of the city. There, John found, were the people that lived the _really_ hard life. Beggars, seedy drug dealers, pimps, people that glared at him for even looking in their direction and failing to cough up any money.

Five minutes after sitting down to rest his feet, a bulky man the size of Ronon approached John from the side. He was sitting atop a carriage pulled by some strange looking domesticated animal, and offered a friendly smile to John.

"You look like you need a ride," the man noted, "And it just happens that this is my specialty. Five gwam for a ride anywhere you please." John smirked and nodded, and a minute later he was settled into the seat beside the driver. "You're not from around here, are you?" the man noted shrewdly.

John shrugged. "What gave me away?"

"You didn't negotiate the fee down," the driver replied, and the carriage started moving. "Anybody local knows that that five gwan is entirely too much to pay for a ride. Anything more than three, and you're being taken for a fool. I reduce my price accordingly."

"Huh," John noted curiously. "Not a lot of men would do that."

"I am not all men," the driver noted with a grin, and John immediately took a liking to him.

John held out his hand. "My name is John Sheppard."

"Karim," the man offered back. "Karim of the Evenlyn Rivers. And where are you headed today, John Sheppard?"

John paused, debating over his options. He should probably return back to the lodgings; Rodney and Ronon would have had more than enough time to purchase everything they needed. Elizabeth wanted to leave the planet as soon as possible, but the more he thought about it, the more he couldn't suppress the nagging voice in his head that insisted on goading John into action.

"Neski's Establishment," he declared.

Karim's face tightened. "A word of caution, my new friend. That place is not known for its hospitality."

John's face darkened. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You are a man who gambles, then?"

John slid on his sunglasses. "Only with my life, Karim."

* * *

Later, when Elizabeth was going to yell at him (he can already hear it coming), John was going to insist he always had things under control. Within two minutes of walking back into Neski's place, though, that was a complete lie. Nothing that happened had been part of any game plan, but y'know... he actually didn't have a game plan to begin with.

In retrospect, that was probably his first mistake.

His second had been turning his back on the bouncer at the door.

John's head struck the stone floor and his vision dimmed for a split second as everything went black. He groaned, realizing he'd been clubbed from behind, then rolled, swung his foot out and swept the bouncer's feet out from under him.

A tall guy from behind advanced with a heavy pole in his grasp, smashing it down over John's head. John spun and threw himself forward. He crashed into the tall man headfirst. With an open palm, John slammed his hand into the guy's nose and blood went spurting everywhere.

John only froze when a burst of gunfire narrowly missed his head.

"Move," Neski warned behind him, "and you lose your head!"

Drawing in a ragged breath, John turned around slowly and faced the armed assailant. The freakin' canon-blaster in Neski's hands was aimed directly at John's forehead, and even with his nanite-infused strength, at this close a range the blow would take his head clean off and leave a crater in its wake.

"You shouldn't have come back," Neski said. "A smart man wouldn't have."

"Already got the memo on that," John responded glibly. "But I get annoyed when people try to kill my friends."

Neski shrugged indifferently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A woman's voice startled John from the side. "We run an above the board establishment," Neski's redheaded wife, Sentra, announced as she strode into the room. "We don't like troublemakers like you. In fact, I think Neski is within his rights to protect his property with deadly force. What's to stop him from blowing your head—"

"Wait!" John turned to spy Karim barreling into the room. "Wait! You do not have to kill him!"

"Karim!" John called. "Get out of here! Now!"

Karim ignored him, turning to plea with the man holding the canon blaster. "You do not have to kill him. He is from the Ancestor's Ring. He is not of this world. He doesn't understand the rules of this place."

"Ignorance is no excuse for disrespect," Sentra said haughtily.

"Please," Karim said breathlessly. "Just let him go this once. I assure you that he will be of no more trouble to you! You have my word."

Neski scrubbed the back of his neck, inspected Karim for a moment, and then smiled. A laugh escaped his lips as he lowered the weapon, and nodded. "Very well, Karim. Keep him in line. His deeds on your head, and those of your family, I suppose. By the way, how is your son doing these days?

Karim went pale in the face. "As well as can be expected, considering his health."

Neski shook his head as he walked away, and behind John, both the bouncer and the other nameless assailant moved to either side of John.

"Leave," Sentra ordered, as she followed her husband out the door. "And don't come back."

Karim grabbed John by the arm and forcefully escorted him out. There were protests on the tip of his tongue, but John held silent, well aware that he'd managed to get out of a tight bind by the charity of this one man.

When they cleared the building, Karim whirled John around and shouted into his face. "You fool! What was that? You looking to kill yourself?"

"Look, Karim, I appreciate the concern but you shouldn't have gotten involved—"

"If I didn't get involved, you would have ended up dead like the others."

John stopped short. "Others?"

Karim glared. "Leave, and don't come back. For my son's sake. He has enough problems as it is from Neski. I don't need more. Half this side of the city is under his thumb, and you walk into his place like you own it. Fool!"

He probably deserved that and a lot more, but John was already moving on. "What's Neski got to do with your kid?"

Karim glared. "It's like talking to a brick wall with you."

"Yeah. I've been accused of that once or twice before."

"Leave! Stay away from Neski. He is trouble that neither of us can afford."

Karim pulled away, but John snagged him by the arm and stopped him. "Karim, just… you did me a huge favor. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here. What's Neski's story? What's he got to do with your kid?"

Karim paused, eying John with an expression of utter wariness. "You are going to cause nothing but trouble, aren't you?"

"I've been accused of that once or twice before, too."

* * *

John took a moment to brace himself before walking through the door. To his surprise, Elizabeth was the only one waiting for him, with a rather expectant expression on her face. He tossed around a searching gaze for the others, and Elizabeth answered, "They're out searching for you. We were concerned."

John bit his lip. "Yeah, I guess I should have… radioed, or something."

"That would have been nice," she replied, and her eyes traveled over his form. His injuries had long healed, but the state of his clothes was telling. "So… do I even really want to know?"

"It's better if you don't."

There was a long stretch of silence, and to his surprise yet again, Elizabeth heeded his words. She rose, picked up a duffle bag and slung it over her shoulder. Then she roughly thrust a spare one towards John, who caught it deftly and looked up.

"We're leaving," she announced, rather tiredly but in a tone that brokered no argument. "I've contacted the others. We'll met up with them at the puddle-jumper."

"Eliza—"

"John," she stopped him. "Don't."

She left the room before he could respond, and John had little choice but to follow. The trip out of the building was silent and tense, and he had a gut feeling the others would be just as pissed at him and they didn't even know the full story yet. He knew he had screwed up majorly. Getting into a fight with Neski's men had done nothing except put Karim's kid up as liability. John wasn't willing to let matters go so lightly, though.

Once they all met back up at the puddle-jumper, John slid into the pilot seat and spent a few moments doing pre-flight checks. Rodney grumbled about spending the entire day doing useless tasks like chasing John down, but Ronon and Teyla kept their admonishments to themselves. Elizabeth's silent treatment was the worst; he kept glancing over at her, waiting for the reprimands to begin, but she always had this freaky knack for making him feel like a heel without ever raising her voice.

It wasn't until they'd lifted in the air and he swung the jumper around that the others noticed they weren't headed in the direction of the Stargate.

"John," Elizabeth said. "Where are you going?"

"I've gotta show you guys something first," John answered, and off they went.

* * *

Two hours later, Karim's five-year-old son was cuddled up in Teyla's lap playing with toys. John watched from across the room, then swept his gaze to the other side. Elizabeth was talking quietly with Karim and his wife, and the conversation centered around one somber topic. Karim's kid had some sort of lung condition, a rare disease that was slowly shutting down his immune system. There were treatments, even a new one that looked exceptionally promising, but it cost money. Twice the amount that John and Rodney had won at the casino, and those winnings hadn't exactly been chump change.

Karim was already neck-deep in debt to Neski for past loans, for past treatments. Though John preferred to think of it as highway robbery; Neski had been taking advantage of the poor man ever since their first business deal, charging an exorbitant amount of interest that even an aristocrat couldn't hope to pay off. Karim had sold his original home and moved to the slums to make payments, and ever since, he'd been treated like Neski's personal lapdog.

Neski did that to a lot of people. The people who complained or ended up fighting back, he killed. And the local law enforcement couldn't touch him for anything because Neski played it too safe and too smart to get caught.

"He's a bad guy," John finished.

"We could do something about that." Ronon said, clearly already on board with John's way of thinking. He had been since first seeing the kid. "Just point him out to me and I could take care of it."

Elizabeth threw him a warning look. "Not like that."

"Why not?" Ronon asked bluntly.

Karim stared at Ronon with a look of abject horror. "We do not want bloodshed. That will solve nothing. Neski dead will not help my child."

"I don't know," Ronon countered, shrugging. "Could solve a lot of things."

"Will it bring me my son's health back?" Karim demanded, then glanced to John angrily. "I told you that I didn't want anymore trouble, and you bring me a man with blood-thirst in his eyes."

John held up a hand. "He means well—"

"We don't condone bloodshed," Elizabeth cut in, sparring a quick glance at John and Ronon. "And we never will."

John nodded. "No one here was talking about killing the guy."

"Well," Rodney added pointedly, around a mouthful of food that Karim's wife had offered him. "Except Ronon."

John glared. "But he didn't really mean it," he stopped, and turned to Ronon. "Did you, big guy?"

Ronon shrugged indifferently. "Sure."

John sighed. They were losing momentum again. He'd brought everybody here to show them how dire things had become because of Neski and his men. Before, in his anger, John may have acted foolishly. But this was bigger than that now. They could help Karim out, save his kid, and all they had to do was remove a corrupt individual from power.

After dealing with the Wraith, the Asurians, the Genii, and a dozen other forces out there in the Pegasus Galaxy, one man wouldn't be that hard to take down. John knew he just had to convince Elizabeth, and everything else would fall into place.

Elizabeth sighed heavily, and turned away. He watched her leave the crowd to step outside, and though he knew she left for solitude, he ended up following her anyway. The air was crisp and cool outside, almost frigid, but he threw on his jacket and stood beside Elizabeth on the front porch.

After a beat, he said, "You can't tell me this isn't a good cause."

She shook her head, and admitted, "It is. I'm not saying otherwise."

"So you're willing to help them?"

"Of course I am, John," Elizabeth sighed heavily, exasperated. "Not Ronon's way, obviously. But one look at that kid, and how is anyone supposed to say no? You knew that, which is exactly why you brought us here."

John stayed silent for a moment, because he really _had_ manipulated her into this. He felt a little bit shameful about emotionally blackmailing her and the rest of his team into hopping on board with his plan, but this was almost _too_ easy.

If Elizabeth was already willing to risk this op, then why did she still look so uncertain?

She turned to face him, expression pinched with worry. "We have to have a serious conversation, John."

John nodded slowly. "I thought that's exactly what we were doing?"

"You're not going to like this, but I've held my tongue long enough."

Oh. That couldn't be a good sign.

Settling against the banister railings, John gestured wide with his hands for her to start ripping into him. It was obviously going to get ugly, but he mentally tried to brace himself for the worst. Teyla, this morning. Now Elizabeth. Throw in the beating he took from Neski's men, and apparently this was a red-letter day for pounding on John Sheppard.

Elizabeth's first comment was unexpected. "Why are you so adamant about taking on this guy?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Didn't you see the kid in there? He's—"

"You were eager to take this guy down long before you even knew Karim's kid existed," Elizabeth argued knowingly, her heated breath fogging the frigid night air. "You've been itching for a fight, and it's not remotely surprising that you found one."

Bewildered, John eventually said, "These people need help, and we can give it to them. Who cares about my goddamn motives?"

"I do," Elizabeth said fiercely. "I care. Because right now you're so wound tight, you've got everybody anxious. Do you have any idea how… _scared_ I am for you right now?"

"Scared for me?" he repeated incredulous. "What?"

She turned away, striding anxiously across the porch before she faced him again. "One of you greatest qualities, John," she began, visibly struggling for the right words, "is that you're willing to sacrifice yourself for a greater good. It's an admirable thing, but it's kind of disturbing in a certain sense. I'd be a hypocrite if I said I didn't have the same tendency inside me, but you are so _cavalier_ about your life, John. Like it's just a piece of paper you could toss away."

"Eliza—"

"It scares me," she continued forcefully, overtop him. "Back in Atlantis, that mentality had a purpose. It had its place. I didn't always like it, but it saved our people on more than one occasion so I kept my mouth shut… But now, we don't have Atlantis, and I feel like…"

His eyes flashed. "Like what?"

"Like you're just looking for an excuse," she declared in a breathless voice. "You are so angry, so consumed with self-hatred right now that you don't see straight."

He stared, incredulous at Elizabeth's words and at a loss for his own. Christ, she was making him sound like a head case. Self-hatred? He hated the _nanites_ in his body, would gladly rip them out one at a time if he could, but that didn't amount to self-hatred. He wasn't fucking suicidal, or anything.

"I never said you were suicidal," Elizabeth replied softly.

He realized he'd unintentionally been projecting over the shared consciousness again. "Stop doing that! Why does everybody keep on doing that to me?"

"Because you're the only one of us that hasn't mastered the concept of mental shields yet."

John scowled. "You could just not pay attention."

"It doesn't work like that, and you know it."

He plunged a hand through his hair, cursing the goddamned nanites for yet another thing that screwed up his life.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she turned away. "Did you ever stop to think the nanites might not be so bad?"

This conversation was surreal. Entirely fucking surreal.

"Not so bad?" he practically growled at her back.

Elizabeth stiffened, then turned to face his skepticism with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, John, not so bad. It isn't a death sentence. We don't look any different. We don't act any different. We don't even feel any less human."

"But we are!" John barked. "We aren't human. Humans can't mindmeld with each other. They can't stick their fingers through another person's forehead and walk around in it like it's a freaking amusement park! Humans don't do that."

"They also don't survive gunshot wounds like the one I did yesterday," Elizabeth argued softly. Her eyes darkened, a touch of vulnerability peeking through. "I would be dead right now, a dozen times over, if I didn't have these nanites in me."

John kept silent, unable to counter the point.

"I hated them too, at first," Elizabeth admitted, and settled down on the bench near the railings. She looked down at her feet for a long moment, before she gained the courage to speak again. "I hated what I had become, and what they meant. But… I don't know. I don't know what happened. After months of wallowing in self-pity, I just got tired of it – of hating myself. Maybe I've just had more time to process it than you have, but have you ever considered the thought that maybe this isn't the horrible curse we all thought it was?"

Honestly, the thought had never once seriously crossed his mind. Yes, the nanites had their advantages, but he'd give them up freely in a split-second to be human again.

"So would I," Elizabeth said as she looked up, reading his mind. "But that's not an option. It never was. And the way I figure it, we've got two choices. One, we can accept it, and maybe even embrace it so that we can use it to our advantage. Or we can hate ourselves – and each other – forever."

John stared at her. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you. Or the others."

"And what about yourself, John?" she asked.

He struggled to come up with a response. After a long stretch of silence, Elizabeth glanced away as if that was answer enough and John barely caught a glimpse of her profile as it crumbled. John winced, silently admitting to himself that maybe she was right; maybe there was a little self-hatred in him. The sight of her near tears made him feel worse than anything else, though. It, ironically, only fed into his self-loathing more.

Shit. He was really making a mess of things lately, wasn't he? Everything just felt… wrong. Fake. Nothing felt _real_anymore.

Slowly, he approached the bench and settled down beside her. Elizabeth took a long breath to recover her composure, and they sat quietly for a while. Suddenly, his earlier conversation with Teyla registered in his head, and he found himself unable to look at Elizabeth for fear of what he'd say or do. His hands were suddenly clammy, his heart racing, and he could only think of one thing. He was tired of feeling angry and frustrated; he wanted to feel something else for a change. Something real.

He wanted to feel Eliz—

Rodney popped his head out from behind the front door. "Hey, are you guys done out here?" he groused. "We're already talking logistics and we could use your input, oh fearless leaders."

Elizabeth sighed. "We'll be in after a moment, Rodney."

Rodney nodded and left without another word. The moment was blown, so brief and flimsy that John was now cursing himself for letting it arise in the first place. Elizabeth was right: he wasn't thinking clearly, because he'd just about acted on his feelings, those same ones he'd vowed to suppress for years. Christ, somebody shoot him.

Elizabeth rose. "Just… just be a little more cautious and careful from now on, John? You may not care what happens to you, but we do."

She walked back through the front door without another word.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part III**

The sleepless nights continued, but at least John finally had something to focus on now. The op wasn't going to be quick and easy, so the first thing was first. Karim sent his family away to stay with some relatives far out of reach of Neski's long arm. John and the others relocated to two state of the art lodgings that were at the very edge of town. Preparations began immediately, funded by the winnings they had scored from Neski's establishment.

Rodney spent days isolated in his room, getting accustom to the technology of the planet. It was an Ancient derivative, so it was vaguely familiar. The city ran on computer networks that weren't too far off from Atlantis' schematics, but it was just the start. Rodney went through their cash assets like it was paper tissue, but no one dared stop him.

Bored silly because he personally had nothing to do those first few days, John took to inane tasks in his free time: juggling, working out, bugging Rodney on the computers, rearranging furniture so that he could play basketball in the living room, working out some more, sparring with Ronon or Teyla, then recovering from the aforementioned sparring session – and finally, lastly, having way _way_ too much time and headspace to mull over his feelings for Elizabeth.

He got the feeling he was becoming a bit obsessive about it, actually. There were more than a few nights spent awake, pondering and planning and wondering if he should do anything to act out on his feelings. Before, in Atlantis, there had always been rules and the structure of command standing between them. Here, now, the only thing stopping John was a heightened fear that should normally have been reserved only for life-or-death situations.

The op evolved as they gathered intel and resources, until one day, Rodney burst out of his room in triumph and exclaimed, "I've got it! I figured out how we can take Neski down!"

John swiveled in his chair and plopped his feet down. "Finally," he muttered in exasperation. "I'm not getting any younger here."

Rodney looked up from his PDA and scowled. "Yes, well, technically you're not getting any older either. So stop complaining because while you were mastering the fine art of molding your ass to that chair, some of us have been doing real work and labor."

"Get on with it, Rodney."

He dropped his PDA onto the table in front of John and swiveled it around. "See that, there? That's the internal neural system at Neski's. I've hacked in and gained remote access to almost everything: records of profits and loses for the last five years, as well as security information, guard rotation schedules and building blueprints."

John raised an eyebrow. "You wanna rob the casino?"

"Technically yes, but wait," Rodney said, holding up a finger. "I did the same to some of the other gambling establishments in town, and compared profits. Something interesting came up."

Rodney tapped the screen, and a second later accounting information came up, comparing profits and loses of several casinos side-by-side. John gave it a cursory glance, and though he was a mathematical genius, he didn't have the patience to sit through and figure out the point of this little exercise.

"And?" he prodded Rodney along.

"Look at the winnings," Rodney explained. "Look at _who's_ winning, at both the other casinos and then at Neski's. There's a difference."

"Difference how?"

"Neski's winnings 90% of the time go to aristocrats. They make up 10% of the planet's population. The other casinos show normal distribution for the gambling winnings. Don't you see? It's statistically impossible for aristocrats to win that much at Neski's place."

John caught on immediately. "You think he's rigged his games."

Rodney nodded quickly. "You remember the card machines? They recognized our ATA genes. On this planet, only aristocrats have that gene. Then remember how we just kept winning and winning? At first, I thought it was my natural genius with numbers and my vastly underappreciated poker face that led to such a successful night, and I'm still convinced that had a large effect on my winnings, but—"

"The card game was rigged to favor people with ATA genes."

"And against everybody else," Rodney finished. "That's basically stealing from the poor to give to the rich. It's reverse-Robin Hood with Ancient technology."

John's face darkened. "That's why Neski asked me that night if I was an aristocrat. And why he was comfortable enough to try to rob us afterwards. He only looks out for aristocrats."

"At least at Neski's," Rodney undercut. "The other casinos seem to have legit statistics. Neski is playing by their own rules."

John suddenly grinned. "Think people will be upset when they find out?"

Rodney held up a hand. "We gotta prove it first. This is all just speculation."

"So hack into the system and figure out how he's rigging the machines."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Like it's that easy? Look, breaking in to get blueprints is one thing. Breaking into to tamper with a gambling system is another. He's protecting that thing with enough firewalls to keep me running in circles forever. We can't get that done with the remote access we have here."

John's face darkened with understanding. "You have to break in from on-site?"

"We have to break in from on-site," Rodney agreed. "And taking a brief glance at their security measures, things aren't going to be easy. Think Mission Impossible, without the guarantee of a happy ending. And Tom Cruise, 'cause we have enough crazy in our lives, thanks."

Within ten minutes, John had everybody gathered in the living room, shooting each other ideas over how to do what looked like a daunting task. "We're gonna need someone on the inside," John declared, pacing back and forth. "It's not going to work unless we have access to employee sections within the building. The hack has to come from the inside."

Ronon slanted him a pointed look. "You and Rodney are going to be thrown out at first sight."

John nodded. "Yeah, that occurred to us."

"I can do it," Teyla volunteered, her soft voice breaking through the heated discussion. "I can get in."

Everybody looked to her, startled, but Teyla met the dubious looks with a steady and confidant poise. John's head filled with scenarios. The only women he'd seen working at Neski's place fell into one of two categories: prostitutes or waitresses. His stomach clenched with the idea of the former.

Teyla could see the discomfort growing on everybody's faces. "There was an advertised post," she explained. "For a singer. I was thinking I could try."

"Like a lounge singer?" Rodney asked.

Teyla looked confused. "A what?"

John shook his head and waved away the question. "You really think you could do that?"

"Singing?" she mused wryly, settling back against the cushions of her chair. "I am fairly sure that I have the vocals for it, yes."

Everybody stared at her, and it was a possibility. A start. The only thing that stood in the way was the fact that Teyla might be recognizable to Neski's men as a known acquaintance of John's. Would that stop them from hiring her?

Elizabeth looked to Teyla, and nodded. "We have to try."

* * *

The audition, John heard, went fabulously.

The only hitch was when one of Neski's men made a vastly inappropriate overture towards Teyla, which in turn left him bleeding on the floor in an unconscious pile. But apparently, Neski liked spunk in his women. He hired Teyla on the spot and told her to report for work the following evening.

It was sixteen hours later, as she was dressing up for her debut performance that Rodney was obsessively going over the instructions, again and again. "Second floor, back room," he shouted through her closed door. "That room is restricted to employee personal only. Use your card, and that'll take you towards the security room. I'll guide you the rest of the way."

"What are we talking about here?" Elizabeth asked. "Passed that door, what kind of resistance is Teyla expected to met?"

"Armed?" Ronon offered wryly.

Rodney nodded. "I'll have to use her key card to hack into their internal security network, and guide her towards the mainframe where we can download the information we need. We just need you to—"

The door opened to reveal Teyla in her performance outfit, and Rodney trailed off, suddenly slack-jawed. John had seen Teyla in a lot of attractive outfits over the years. Her sparring clothes had always amassed much appreciation from the marines back at Atlantis. But this was on a level entirely of its' own. Short, black and skimpy, the clothing didn't leave much to the imagination. It said a lot about the type of woman that Teyla was that she could walk out in it, still as dignified as ever.

She glanced to Rodney. "What did you need me to do?"

"Huhn?" Rodney replied, a little mind-wacked, and John elbowed him in the stomach so the man could pick his jaw up off the floor. "Ow! What was that for?"

John rolled his eyes as he walked away, towards Ronon and Elizabeth who seemed to be watching Rodney's paralysis with vast amusement. The guy was utterly hopeless with women; John sometimes wondered how Rodney had ever managed to get any dates.

_Oh, I don't know, John,_ Elizabeth mused internally, _I think he could manage just fine with the right woman._

He grimaced. "Stop reading my mind."

"Stop projecting," Elizabeth answered, then nodded back towards Rodney and Teyla. "And open your eyes a little."

John blinked, then turned back to see what Elizabeth was talking about. Teyla and Rodney were standing at the end of the hallway, and Rodney had finally recovered and was talking animatedly with her. Everything looked normal. Bewildered, he turned back to Elizabeth, but she merely shook her head in exasperation and walked away.

Ronon answered, "She's been flirting with him."

John stared at him. "Who's been whatting with huh?"

"Teyla," Ronon answered. "Flirting with Rodney."

He continued to stare, stunned. "Teyla Emmagan?"

"Yes."

"With Rodney _McKay_?"

Ronon rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Wow, Sheppard, nothing gets passed you."

Ronon walked away, and John whirled to study Teyla and Rodney again. This time, though, he noticed their proximity and their body language, and whoa… his mind stalled as he tried to imagine Teyla being interested in Rodney. Their earlier conversation from days ago suddenly sprang to mind.

_One day, you see your friend, and it can be as harmless as a simple touch and then things change. You see him in a new light, and… everything changes._

Rodney? And Teyla?

Teyla and Rodney?

John just couldn't comprehend that, and shook his head as if to banish the now-quickly-manifesting mental imagery of his two teammates making out like teenagers. Nuh-uh. Never. Not in a million years. Ronon and Elizabeth must have been partaking in some of the local recreational hallucinogens of Evenlyn, because no way, no how. John would have seen something like that coming.

… Right?

* * *

And then they were back to using the shared consciousness again. He really hated that, though John tried to keep the grumbling to a minimum because the evening was just beginning. Plus, he appreciated the idea of having constant radio contact with Teyla in case anything went sideways.

Still, it was a pain in the ass.

John and the others set up shop in an abandoned building across the street from Neski's place, listening in as Teyla gave her first performance. It was a slow song, and at first John really wasn't paying attention until the rhythm of Teyla's voice parsed through his preoccupation.

"She's good," John muttered in surprise.

Ronon glanced over. "Why do you sound so shocked?"

"I don't know. It just didn't compute until now that Teyla would be a good singer. Teyla equals fighter, like Rodney equals geek or clowns equal evil."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Clowns equal evil?"

John shrugged. "They creeped me out as a child."

"What happened?"

"I saw a clown. It creeped me out. There wasn't really a story behind it."

"I'm gonna take a piss," Ronon declared, and stood up and left.

Rodney typed away on his PDA, pausing briefly to roll his eyes. "I love how he announces that every time."

"He's just anxious," Elizabeth chided Rodney. "We all are. None of us like the idea of sending in Teyla by herself."

Silence settled again, and Rodney looked so singularly focused on his PDA that John was actually concerned about his blinking process. They were all wound tight, even with the ability to hear Teyla through every second. A few more hours, then hopefully they could hand in the damning evidence to the proper authorities. Teyla just had to bid her time until the perfect opportunity to slip away from the crowds presented itself.

Meanwhile, John was getting jittery.

"Stop that," Elizabeth snapped at him.   

It was only then that he noticed that he'd been kicking the leg of her chair repeatedly for several minutes. He stopped, shrugging apologetically. It wasn't until another few minutes passed and Elizabeth huffed out another annoyed breath, that he realized he was tapping his fingers against the countertop rhythmically.

"Sorry," he muttered, then stood up just so he'd have something to do. "I'm gonna go see what's taking Ronon so long."

Rodney shooed him away with his hands. "Go, go. Far away, somewhere you can't annoy busy people doing important work."

He left, finding the bathroom facilities first. When he found that clear, John grew bewildered and then went out back, through the side exit. He swept his gaze around for Ronon, and then stopped short in surprise. Ronon was holding another man by the collar; one of Neski's men, the bouncer from the other day. They were exchanging heated words, but John was too far away to hear what they were saying.

John stepped closer and called, "What's going on?"

Ronon slanted him a dark look. "Found this moron in the back alley, trying to spy on us."

The moron in question had a busted lip and was holding his arm like it was broken; John still knew Ronon had gone easy on him. John traded looks with the Satedan and circled the man, tone flippant, "Didn't your mother ever teach it's rude to spy on other children?"

"Talk," Ronon ordered.

The bouncer swallowed heavily, staring at Ronon with an appropriate amount of fear in his eyes. "Neski told me to find you."

John froze. "He did?"

Bouncer nodded. "He knows the woman you sent, the singer, works for you. He wanted me to find your location, and send you a message."

"What message?"

The man paused, fear choking his voice.

Ronon rolled his eyes. "Tell us the message, and I promise I won't kill you."

His voice squeaked, "There's plenty else you could do."

"Yes," Ronon said menacingly. "There is."

John gave Ronon a silent look that told him to back off a little. "Give us the message."

Mustering a large gulp of air, the man finally spoke, "He said, the first death is non-negotiable. After that, maybe you could save the rest if you played nice."

John and Rodney exchanged looks simultaneously, the same thought occurring: _Teyla_.

"Go back to the others," John ordered Ronon. "Tell them what's going on and get them back to the lodgings. Do something with this asshole," he nodded to their capture. "I'm gonna go get Teyla."

"Let me come with," Ronon said.

"Neski's message," John reminded him. "There's more than one potential target. Let me worry about Teyla; you go take care of Rodney and Elizabeth."

After a beat, Ronon nodded.

He sent word to Teyla first, through their shared consciousness that Neski was after her. As Ronon went back to inform the others, John didn't waste time. He went around the back of Neski's place, slipping in through the rear entrance. The place was filled with smoke and the rancid smell of alcohol, and as a few half-naked women passed by, John focused his attention on Teyla's voice in the distance, singing.

When he finally found her, she was on the center stage wrapping up her last song. He stayed to the shadows, but they covertly traded looks and John was trying to be as calm as humanly possible when he sent her the message: _get the hell out of there. Now._

The barrel of a gun pressed into the back of John's head.

Of course, things could never just go easy.

* * *

Neski slammed the butt-end of his canon-blaster into John's face, and he dropped heavily to the floor. Nanites helped heal, but pain still hurt like a son of a bitch and little birdies danced before his vision. He took a moment to wipe the blood away from his busted lip, and glanced up at Neski.

"Anyone ever tell you that you have anger-management issues?"

That earned him another hit, this one to his ribs. As John groaned and fought off a wave of dizziness, he struggled to keep a level head. Teyla was being held by two men, just opposite of him. They hadn't touched her yet, but as they locked eyes with each other briefly, he could tell she was just waiting for his signal.

John needed some answers first. "When did you figure out Teyla worked for me?"

Neski snorted in amusement. "You do not think I would remember a beautiful woman such as Teyla? I remembered she was with you, that first night. In fact, I remember two women. The other one was pretty, too. Is she around? I would like to make her acquaintance as well."

"I doubt the feelings mutual," John tried through gritted teeth. "Let Teyla go. I'm the one you want."

Neski glanced back at Teyla briefly, then shook his head. "No, it does not work like that. I knew the moment she walked into this place that she was dead. As were your other friends. I gave you a kind warning once already, Sheppard. You didn't heed it. Now, it is time you learned what it means to cross my path."

"You don't want to do that."

Neski came to stand directly in front of him, with Teyla and her two guards right behind him. "And who is going to stop me?"

John nodded covertly to Teyla, then returned his eyes to Neski. "Me," John began. "You see, we're not who you think we are. Heck, we're not even _what_ you think we are. I can crush a man's skull with my hands. Yeah, that's right. A human skull. I'm sure if you had one lying about, I could demonstrate for you."

"What are you blabbering on about?" Neski demanded.

"Nonsense," John answered. "I just needed to keep your eyes focused on me for a few seconds so that Teyla could do her Xena-thing."

"What?" Neski demanded.

He turned to find Teyla had already dropped her one of her hostage-takers to the ground. John barreled ahead, using the distraction to slam into Neski. They ended up in a pile on the floor and Neski's gun went skidding across the tiles. John reached for the handle but Neski grabbed a nearby barstool first. He slammed the legs against John's face.

John groaned, head spinning, blood spurting, then struggled to breathe as Neski broke off a leg and pressed the rod against John's throat. He couldn't get oxygen; thankfully, that wasn't as much of a problem for him as it once would have been.

"Teyla," he strangled out. "A little help here?"

It didn't quite work out the way he'd hoped. Wayward gunfire rang out, and John glanced up to find Teyla was struggling over a gun with one of her attackers. Intermittently, bursts of gunfire escaped and the bullets bit into the floor near John's head. Neski dove out of the way, gaining cover, and a bullet stuck John in the arm. He bit back a strangled groan, then quickly forced himself up.

John dove into the guy attacking Teyla, rendering him unconscious when the blow to his head knocked him out. Teyla stood up, nodded her thanks, and John quickly turned back to face Neski again.

But Neski was gone, having made his escape.

"C'mon," he said to Teyla. "We have to get to the others."

* * *

Their new lodgings were on the other side of the city; Ronon, Rodney and Elizabeth had a ten-minute head start on them, so John rushed to catch up. Neski's taunts bothered him. Neski was too meticulous and headstrong, and from what John heard, he liked to plan out his killings down to every detail so nothing could go wrong.

He contacted Elizabeth over their shared consciousness. _Everybody all right?_

_Yes,_ Elizabeth answered. _We're almost to the lodgings. Everything all right with Teyla?_

_Yes,_ Teyla answered for herself. _I am fine. The mission, on the other hand, is thoroughly blown."_

Elizabeth's thoughts drifted in, tainted with anxiety. _I know. Just get back safely. We'll regroup there. And also, John, I've sent word to Karim to be careful. Neski will probably try to follow through on his threat._

John cursed silently, doubling his efforts to get to the cabin as quickly as possible. He shut down the stream of consciousness, having taxed the connection for far too long. Truthfully, he didn't want anyone else overhearing his internal shit-storm of thoughts. This had all gone wrong; it was his fault. How the hell were they supposed to protect Karim's kid now?

Ten minutes later, John and Teyla arrived at the edge of their lodgings, out of breath and winded. They approached the front porch and opened the door. Then _click_, the sound so soft that John almost didn't hear it. He heard the next thing just fine.

_BOOM!_

The force of an explosion flung them back twenty feet. They were thrown clear across the gravel as the heat of the blast expanded. He landed hard on his side, the sting of fire searing his skin, his face, blinding his vision. The wind was knocked out of him as debris spread fluttering to the ground, and John screamed heavily in anguish when he lifted his head and peered ahead.

Their lodgings had blown up in a blaze of smoke and smithereens.

* * *

For a moment afterwards John felt like he was dead, but then he dimly realized that death probably wouldn't hurt this much. He groaned, eyes struggling to open as the world spun circles around him, the faint ringing sound of his ears drowning out all other noise. What the hell? Uncomprehending, John took a deep breath and tried to calm the madness. Eventually, after too long a struggle, he braced his hands against the pavement and pushed upright. He coughed up blood for his trouble, his temple throbbing in protest.

His eyes drifted to the sight in front of him.

The building was on fire. His eyes snapped open and he was struggling to his feet, ignoring his injuries as alarm coursed through him. Elizabeth, Rodney and Ronon, he realized. They'd been in the building.

Behind him, Teyla was a little slower to rise. "What happened?" she groaned.

"Elizabeth!" John called out frantically, as he rushed to the front door. But it was blocked by a pillar of fire, the heat sending him reeling back. "Elizabeth! Rodney? Ronon! Answer me, goddamn it!"

The only response was another burst of fire that shot out from the front door, sending John falling to his back. Teyla was beside him in an instant, helping him rise again but John could only focus on the swelling inferno.

"John," Teyla breathed, tightly, painfully.

Her voice held a horror that John wasn't willing to acknowledge. No, never. Elizabeth and the others weren't… he trailed off, unable to even complete the hideous thought. He struggled to his feet, head pounding, muscles protesting, and tried to contact them through the shared consciousness. He couldn't, though. There was dead silence. Nothing, not even a whisper, when all he wanted was that noise back, that incandescent stream of information that John normally found annoying, overwhelming.

He wanted it back, goddamn it.

"We gotta go in."

"John, wait!"

He advanced on the house again, but Teyla was suddenly holding him back. "No, John! You cannot go in there!"

"Like hell I can't!" he roared, trying to break out of her hold.

"John, no!" she screamed, just as viciously, and they struggled against each other for endless seconds until she swept his legs out from under him and he slammed to the ground. "You cannot do anything in there!"

The world dimmed around the corners of his vision, and John struggled to breath. It occurred to him distantly that they were both covered in open wounds, both severely burned. They'd only been standing at the doorstep. What of the others? They were _inside._ Would the nanites protect them that much? Oh, god, John felt sick. He felt angry, and Teyla was still struggling against him, a knee braced against his chest to keep him from bolting towards the inferno again.

"John," Teyla breathed, choked. Tears spilled down her cheeks. "They're gone."

His mind rebelled against the thought, even as his vision blurred. Oh, god. Elizabeth, John thought. Rodney and Ronon. His team and his life. It all suddenly felt bitter and wrong, and goddamn it he shouldn't have let this happen! They were dead. Oh, god. Oh, Christ. He couldn't breathe. No one could survive that explosion, not even with nanites.

God damn it.

"Teyla? John?"

It took a second to recognize the voice above his harsh breathing, but then Teyla looked over, and John followed her gaze, and Ronon and Rodney were coming up behind them. Not from the direction of the house, but from behind. In an instant, Teyla got off him and started sprinting towards the others before John could even comprehend anything. They were fine; they weren't even hurt.

And then Elizabeth appeared behind them, and John really couldn't breathe.

He watched, speechless, as the others approached and he dimly heard Elizabeth explain – something about a delay in the route and a group of peasants. Or something. John wasn't paying attention; just stared, still on the ground looking over his shoulder.

"Rodney," Teyla greeted in a tight voice when she reached him, looking like she might cry. "I thought that you had… that you were…"

Then Teyla did something that shocked everybody else into dead silence. She tugged Rodney forward and kissed him senseless, the type that brokered no arguments. Rodney made an oomph sound of surprise against her lips, then seconds later wrapped his arms around her and responded. Everybody else just stared.

Elizabeth discreetly turned her gaze away from Teyla and Rodney, an amused smile on her lips until her eyes fell to John. He was still lying on the ground, in front of the burning building. His state of condition must have been grisly, because she went pale and rushed forward.

Elizabeth dropped down onto her knees beside him. "Are you all right? God, John, you look like hell."

He swallowed heavily, and finally found his voice. "It's good to see you," he managed thickly. "You look good."

Sighing a little ruefully, she said, "I wasn't the one that was blown up."

His eyes darted to Teyla and Rodney briefly. He wished he had half the courage Teyla just demonstrated. Elizabeth was all right. She was fine. He took a few steadying breathes, and Elizabeth wedged her shoulder firmly under John's arm and tugged his wrist down to her neck, lifting so he could stand.

A flare of pain went up as he rose, and John bit back a gruesome scream. His adrenaline was starting to fade, but the nanites were doing their work. Neski would have been banking on that explosion killing anyone that walked through the front door, but he hadn't been expecting nanites.

"That's it," John declared darkly. "I'm taking this son of a bitch down."

* * *

  
**Part IV**

He must have blacked out at some point, because John woke up in bed under two layers of blankets, with a roaring fire nearby. The place was dark, no light to speak of, but as his eyes adjusted, he found himself in a cabin of some sort. The bedroom was small and spartanly furnished, and it was entirely unfamiliar.

John blinked back grogginess as he sat up, finding himself shirtless and in a lone pair of boxers. He scrubbed a heavy hand over his face and tried to focus, before he remembered the explosion, remembered Elizabeth and – had he really seen Teyla kissing Rodney? That had to have been a concussion-induced hallucination, right?

The door opened, and Elizabeth entered. "Hey, you're up," she beamed, carrying a tray full of food. "It's about time. I was starting to get worried. How you feeling?"

John paused, then covered himself up with a blanket out of some misguided sense of modesty. "Fine," he mumbled. "Just tired."

"You need to rest," Elizabeth said. "It always takes a few hours after your body heals for things to feel perfect again."

He nodded, knowing Elizabeth had more experience in such things than any other two of them combined. She settled the tray next to him on the bed, and John's stomach growled. He snagged the bread and tore off a bite, eyeing Elizabeth as she settled into a chair opposite him.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Where are we?"

"Karim found us a place to lie low for a while with some of his friends," Elizabeth explained. "These people are risking a lot to hide us. Neski is apparently turning the city upside-down looking for us."

John grimaced. He'd underestimated Neski; thought him a corrupt thug that wouldn't see what was coming. John had been wrong. Neski had been two steps ahead of them the entire time.

"John," Elizabeth breathed. "We've only made things more difficult for Karim. His family is in danger, and now he can't show his face in public."

"I know," John said, frowning. "I'm trying to figure out how to salvage this. There has to be a way."

But the more John thought about it, the more he realized things were more difficult than ever. Neski was powerful and rich, and their only hope was setting him up to fall by exposing his gambling frauds. They had no hope of getting into his casino again, much less into the restricted employee sections. Not without one hell of a plan, and everything John could think of sounded too outlandish to be realistic.

John needed to play this smart; play this safe. He couldn't risk lives like this anymore, at least not any that wasn't his own.

"You need to rest," Elizabeth said, rising. "Eat up, and then get some sleep."

"Elizabeth," John stopped her just as her hand fisted around the doorknob. "I'm glad you're all right."

Her brow burrowed in confusion, puzzled by his reaction. Elizabeth had no idea that he'd spent a few heart-stopping seconds under the illusion that she was dead.

Slowly, Elizabeth approached him and dropped a gentle kiss to his forehead. John closed his eyes, blood rushing in his ears as he fought against the impulse to drag her lips down further to his. He wondered if she felt the same sense of electricity pump through her veins, or if this was all just his imagination – these _moments_ that seemed to be happening with greater and greater frequency.

Teyla had gone after what she'd wanted; she'd just kissed Rodney. Why couldn't John show the same confidence?

"I'm glad you're all right, too," Elizabeth offered, then pulled back and left.

* * *

The next day, everybody stayed cooped up in that small hideaway cabin.

All through out the city, Neski's men searched high and low for them. John debated options, but nothing seemed to be solidifying as a viable game plan. It was strange, but in the past John had had an easier time of thinking up ways to blow up the Wraith. There, they just needed to kill their enemies. Here, the situation required a little more finesse than a liberal application of C-4 could provide.

After a while, John felt like he was talking in circles with everybody and needed to get some air. He passed by Ronon and Teyla sitting side-by-side against the wall, and went through the next doorway. He found himself in a small barren kitchen, with a central bench and a single stove at the side. Elizabeth was sitting at the edge of the bench, her back to him.

"Y'know, I'm wondering if we could just slip a poisonous snake into the guy's bed," he said, only half-joking. "It'll solve a lot of problems, and no one could trace it back to—" He stopped short when Elizabeth turned around to face him, holding a bloody napkin to her face. "What the hell?"

"It's nothing," Elizabeth assured, raising a placating hand. "Just a nosebleed."

He advanced, studying her with a shadow darkening his face. "We don't _get_ nosebleeds. Just like we don't get heartburn, or stiff joints or common colds. What—"

"Don't make a big deal out of this," she warned.

"Elizab—"

She stood abruptly, and withdrew her hand from her face. The bleeding had stopped and she lightly tossed the ruined napkin into the nearby garbage can. "John, relax. I'm not sick."

She seemed entirely blasé about the condition. Yes, it was just a nosebleed, but with the resilience of their bodies, John couldn't help but figure a nosebleed was an indication of something more serious.

"Rodney!" John bellowed to the room over. "I need you to give a full diagnostic check-up, or whatever it is you do, to Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed. "I'm not a car, John."

"Well, we don't have a doctor, so we're gonna have to make due with Rodney's—"

"I'm fine!" Elizabeth snapped, voice rising in frustration. "God, what is your problem lately? Every single time, you're freaking out. I'm not something that's going to shatter, John. I appreciate your concern, but stop blowing everything out of proportion!"

She pivoted away before he could get another word in edgewise, and John turned to find Rodney, Teyla and Ronon standing in the open doorway. They watched Elizabeth storm out of the room, and then turned back to John with identical looks of shock. They weren't the only ones surprised by Elizabeth's outburst. John had no idea where that had come from.

He made a move to follow Elizabeth, but Teyla stepped forward and blocked his path. "Maybe it is best if you let her cool off?" she offered.

After a beat, John nodded, a bit bewildered.

* * *

It wasn't until two hours later that he finally got around to finding Elizabeth. Usually when they had a fight or a disagreement, John was able to figure out fairly quickly what he'd done to precipitate it. This time, he honestly had no clue. When he found his way to the back of the house, to her room, he discovered Elizabeth sitting quietly, her head bowed slightly.

He knocked lightly on the open door, standing at the threshold. "Is it safe to enter, or am I gonna have my balls handed to me again?"

Elizabeth sighed heavily, and looked up. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

"Well, for a moment I thought we were gonna need an old priest and a young priest," he joked lightly, stepping into the room. "But, uh… wanna tell me what that yelling was all about?"

"You can't guess?"

He threw her a bewildered look. "Why you bit my head off for showing concern? Sorry, I guess I'm not that perceptive."

She released a harsh breath, some of that fire coming back into her eyes. "It's not about concern, John. You've been… tell me you've noticed your over-protective behavior lately, right? I mean, you've always been… but now it's just… well, it's patronizing."

"Patronizing?" he repeated incredulous. "What the hell, Elizabeth? You're not making any sense."

She kept her stare even. "Stop treating me like glass."

"I'm not."

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "You are. You have been for some time."

He took a second to come up with a response, then jabbed a finger at her in triumph when the obvious answer came to mind. "It's my job to protect you."

She rose. "I can't go anywhere on a new planet alone. I can't play a central part in any operation—"

"You're not trained to handle those situations by yourself," John argued quickly. "It's my job to point out that a person with a Ph.D. in Political Science isn't equipped to handle a gun or—"

"And what? Rodney is?"

"Rodney has experience," John refuted. "It's not the same. You're… you're Dr. Elizabeth Weir."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Elizabeth demanded, outraged. "I led the expedition for three years, John. I've been in hostile situations before. I've handled a gun. I've faced off against Oberoth and survived months of torture and interrogation. What does it take for you to realize that I can handle myself perfectly fine?"

John rolled his eyes. "I'm protecting you, not questioning your capabilities."

"Wrong. You're doing both," Elizabeth snapped with finality. "I know you're concerned about me. I know that… that you went through a difficult time when you thought I was dead. But—" John jerked away, finding the raised topic unsavory. "But, John, listen to me. You've been acting out that concern in a way that is, frankly, overbearing. At least acknowledge that."

"I'm not overbearing."

"You freaked out over a nosebleed!"

He paused. She had a point, damn it. Though, in his defense, it wasn't normal for them to have nosebleeds and he'd still wanted Rodney to check up on her. Silence settled between them, and John's tense shoulders eventually dropped, thinking back over his behavior the last few months, especially during the last week. He had been – perhaps, _maybe_ – a little too protective.

He turned back to her. "Okay, so… dully noted. I won't be as, y'know, whatever to you anymore."

"How about trying to phrase that apology in a whole sentence with real words? A little sincerity might help, too."

He signed heavily. "I promise not to be such an overprotective jackass, okay? Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow. "So I have your word on that?"

"Yes, Scout's honor."

"You were never in the Boy Scouts, John."

"I bought their cookies."

"Those are the Girl Scouts."

"How do you know I was never a part of them?" he asked cheekily.

They stared at each other, then slowly their expressions melted into identical smiles. The tension in the air ebbed away, and Elizabeth sat back down on the mattress. She ran a hand through her hair and down the nape of her neck, then looked up at him again.

It occurred to John that lately he was alternating between the urge to fight with Elizabeth and the urge to make out with her, sometimes both simultaneously. He knew he was acting like a jackass at times, but he was still trying to work through things; still trying to adjust to being a half-nanite freak. It wasn't an easy transition, but John never claimed to be a guy in touch with his feelings.

So sue him, he was a work-in-progress.

"Good," Elizabeth eventually declared. "Because I think I've got a plan that could work against Neski."

John raised an eyebrow. "You do? What is it?"

She stared at him. "Don't freak out."

He rolled his eyes. "Elizabeth, stop with the over-dramatic declarations and just—"

And then, right before him, Elizabeth's body transformed to Neski in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"I've been practicing how to alter my physical form for some time," Elizabeth explained to everyone, after she'd changed back to her regular body. "It takes a lot out of me, and I haven't perfected it yet. That nosebleed earlier is a side-effect. I get headaches too, really awful ones. But… but I can change my shape for short periods of time."

"How long?" Rodney asked.

"Fifteen minutes," Elizabeth answered. "Maybe a little longer. It takes all my concentration, but I can manipulate clusters of nanites in my body to rearrange. It's kind of like how they heal a wound, except I'm controlling them with a command to alter my appearance."

"Amazing," Rodney muttered, looking like he might drool. "Replicators are known to transform appearances, but that's only a selective group and we—"

John cut in, "Why didn't you tell us before?"

"Because," Elizabeth answered, slanting him a glance, "I figured you wouldn't like experimenting like that. You haven't been the most open-minded person in regards to our nanite-abilities."

Rodney snorted in agreement, and John turned to send him a withering glare. Yes, John didn't like it. No, check that. He hated it, but that was beside the point. Elizabeth should have told them when she decided to start playing with her insides like it was a game of etch-a-sketch.

Teyla looked to Elizabeth. "Can you teach us to do it?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth answered. "I've only been able to do this after months of familiarizing myself with the nanites. Your bodies are younger. I suppose it has to do with the level of comfort you have with our condition?"

Everybody else stared at each other, shifting slightly in awkwardness. No one had gained the level of comfort with their bodies as Elizabeth had; it wasn't even a question, really.

"I can walk right through the front door of Neski's establishment," Elizabeth explained. "I can get to the restrictive area and no one will suspect me. Not if I look like him. It's the perfect plan."

John opened his mouth to argue, but Elizabeth sent him a pointed glare. His earlier promise sprang to mind and John suddenly clamped his mouth shut, having the grace to look a little sheepish. He abruptly realized that she'd played him perfectly. She'd maneuvered him like a chess piece, damn it.

He would have found that annoying, but truthfully, begrudgingly, he was a little impressed. It was well played.

That didn't mean he was going to lie down without a fight, though. "One day," John declared.

"What?"

"One day," he repeated. "You're gonna try to teach me how to do that little transformation trick in one day. If it doesn't take, you go in, just like you planned. But if I do get the hang of it, I go in. No arguments."

Elizabeth shook her head. "John, it took me months to figure out how to do this."

"So you've done all the legwork," John mused. "Means you just have to teach me the final points. Besides, you've got nothing to lose in trying to teach me this. Nothing but one day."

She opened her mouth, then paused. After a moment, she released a breath and agreed. "Okay. One day."

* * *

Christ, he was never going to get this, not even in a million years.

Groaning as he shoved a hand through his hair in frustration, John took a deep breath and tried again. It was like trying to do the impossible, though. His skin had broken out in sweat, he had a blinding headache, and his irritability had been climbing through the roof as the day wore on.

"Just relax, John," Elizabeth instructed, for the millionth time. "Take a deep breath, and visualize your goal. Imagine your new body. Imagine Neski's face, first. The nose, the eyes, the mouth. Keep your mind focused on the details. Then, slowly, I want you to reach out to the nanites in your body. Like you reach out to me over our internal stream of consciousness. You're just trying to communicate with them. That's all."

He huffed out an annoyed breath. He'd been trying to "reach out and communicate" with his nanites for hours now. But he couldn't do it. How was he supposed to talk to millions of tiny artificial machines like they were human beings? The concept went over his head, and he figured that was where he was having so much difficulty. It was like trying to tell your liver to turn blue just because you wanted it to.

Unsurprisingly, the damn nanites weren't doing what they were supposed to do.

Elizabeth's infinite patience with him finally snapped. "Would you stop that? The constant belittling isn't going to help you. You have to keep an open mind, and… I don't know! Be one with yourself, grasshopper. That type of thing. It isn't going to work if you're don't accept the nanites in your body."

After a beat, John simply said, "Be one with yourself, grasshopper?"

"Shut up."

He grinned. "Alright, alright. No more belittling."

"Here," Elizabeth said seriously, after a pause. "There's one more thing we could try, but I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

"There is no part of this process that I like, but if it helps me do this, then I'm open to it. What?"

She licked her lips, glanced away, then hesitantly faced him again. "I could take over your consciousness completely and show you the process."

John stared, knowing exactly what she meant by "taking over." The whole fingers-through-the-forehead thing was something neither of them wanted to experience, not ever, not on either side of the hand. Oberoth had used that tactic of interrogation on them many, many times over the months of their imprisonment. Elizabeth had received the worst of the treatment, so for her to bring up the possibility was shocking, to say the least.

"Well?" she asked, anxiously.

He paused, but it wasn't as if many other options were available to him. Elizabeth was probably the only person he'd let do this to him. Christ, he hated this. The invasion and position of subjugation brought up a lot of old bitter memories, but he trusted Elizabeth. It wouldn't be the same, he convinced himself with a tense exhale. After a moment, he nodded once.

"This is different from the stream of consciousness," Elizabeth warned. "There, you can block me out. But with this… I have access to everything."

John nodded. That was an intimidating thought, especially considering some of the things rattling around in his brain. He took a breath and tried to clear his mind.

"Do it," he ordered, squeezing his eyes shut.

She reached out her fingers and lightly brushed his forehead at first. He expected pain, an excruciating and familiar probing, but Elizabeth of course handled it differently than Oberoth. There wasn't even a jolt as she entered his consciousness, the transition smooth and seamless. Then, suddenly, both of them were standing in that formless purple platform with the low hazy beams of light.

Things felt instantly different. He couldn't explain it, not really, but it was like pins and needles all across his body. The link was pulsing with energy, unraveling a tapestry of sensations that he couldn't even begin to describe. They were as tangible as Elizabeth standing in front of him. He _felt_ her too, like if he closed his eyes he'd still be able to sense the distinct energy pattern of her body. It was familiar, her heartbeat suddenly in tune with his, and the connection to Elizabeth wasn't at all like he'd feared.

"Hey."

She smiled back. "Hey."

The connection between them was a steady current. He glanced around and released a tense exhale. This wasn't so bad. He could manage this.

And then, almost without warning, she reached out to grab a hold of his forearm and everything changed. Abruptly, in the span of milliseconds, the line between them disappeared and he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't see straight. The only thing that existed was Elizabeth. His thoughts, actions, feelings, sensations – everything tasted of her. The familiarity was intoxicating, and not at all in a bad way.

Elizabeth took control, showing him the way to transform his body. In his mind, she presented him with the image of Neski, his face, his stature, the lean of his body. She let that imagery solidify for just a moment, then guided his thoughts to the nanites in her – his – _their_ body. John sensed the nanites react to her command, felt the change in energy as they received Elizabeth's orders, then remobilized.

It was so obvious that John wondered why he hadn't seen it before. Elizabeth showed him exactly what to do, how to do it, and it seemed so simple now.

_See?_ she told him. _The nanites aren't your enemy._

* * *

Elizabeth retreated from his mind and then he was back on Evenlyn again. John winced away from the harsh light, head swimming with sudden vertigo. The shock of the transition left the room spinning circles around him, and then the next thing John knew he was dropping to the floor like a ton of bricks.

"John!" Elizabeth exclaimed, and rushed towards him.

He felt hands, frantic and nervous, reaching up to check his pulse. A few seconds ticked by, and then he was vaguely aware that Elizabeth was gingerly moving to cradle his head in her lap. He felt sick, like his body was rebelling against him, and Elizabeth ran her hands ran up and done along his back.

"It's alright," Elizabeth soothed. "This happens the first time with the transformation. It improves. I only get nosebleeds now."

John finally peered open his eyes and glanced to his hands, finding them unfamiliar. Neski's hand.

He was Neski.

John groaned, curling into Elizabeth more and shamelessly using her proximity to anchor him. After a few moments, a tremor went through him and John's breathing began to even out. When he finally lifted his head, an unfamiliar lock of Neski's long blond hair fell into his eyes and Elizabeth brushed it out of the way. She laced fingers into his sweat-soaked hair, and for a few split seconds John was blissfully unaware of anything except Elizabeth.

"Try to change back to your regular form," Elizabeth instructed. "You'll feel better."

John continued to look at her, unresponsive, until he finally nodded. He didn't move, just closed his eyes and concentrated like Elizabeth taught him. The nanites in his body were suddenly like translucent entities he could picture in his mind's eye. A whisper of a thought, and surprisingly, they obeyed to his command. If he'd been in any better shape, he might have marveled at it.

After a few moments, Elizabeth spoke up, "You doing better?"

He glanced at his hands again, finding them familiar and his own. The pain was easing, the wave of nausea passing as the seconds ticked by. Sighing heavily, relieved to be back in his body, he lifted his gaze up to Elizabeth. She was so close by, her face framed by locks of brunette curls. Elizabeth's eyes were open and honest, the concern for his wellbeing entirely naked. When she carefully moistened her lips with her tongue, he felt surprising heat stir at her nearness and the weight of her gaze.

Unthinkingly, almost as if he was watching himself from across the room, John angled his head, eyes on her lips, and without a shred of rationality, brushed his mouth against hers. He wasn't sure who was more surprised by the contact – him or her. He found himself taking hold of the back of her head, hand threading through her hair, but the embrace was gentle, just lips on lips, barely tasting.

It was a completely instinctual reaction, but he found that kissing Elizabeth felt as right to him as breathing. If anything the embrace was an exercise in restraint, but the intention behind it was undeniable.

When he pulled back again, John stared for a moment, his actions finally catching up with him. "Well, that was new."

Elizabeth stared at him, eyes still far too easy for him to read. Shocked, she held him in her arms for a few seconds and then, abruptly, bolted up. John barely managed to keep from spilling to the ground, catching himself as Elizabeth jumped up, but he still needed a few seconds to muster energy together before he did anything as daring as standing on his own two feet. His body felt drained and weak, but John was more floored by what had just happened.

Shit. He'd kissed Elizabeth.

_Shit. Shit. Shit._

He watched her retreat to the other side of the room, a growing expression of outright panic on her face. Four years, he'd known this woman. Wraiths, Asurians, Ancients, space battles, suicidal missions, beaurocratic shit storms, alien invasions – and he'd seen Elizabeth weather all of that with calm and poise. He'd managed to freak her out with one small kiss.

John licked his lips, and tried flippantly, "It wasn't that bad of a kiss, was it?"

Her back was to him, spine stiff as a board, and if he knew her at all, she was resisting the urge to wring her hands together. John rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away. He alternated between the urge to flee and the desire to continue this wherever it led. But good or bad, this had been a long time coming.

"It's nothing," she dismissed eventually, turning around with a tight smile. "It was nothing."

They both knew that was a lie. It may have been a soft kiss, but there wasn't anything chaste about the intent behind it. He was also fairly sure his mind had been wide open for Elizabeth to read the entire time.

"Elizabeth." He slowly rose up off the ground, wincing at the stiff muscles and aching joints. "Elizabeth, c'mon. We're both getting a little too old for this, aren't we?"

She paused, then insisted in a tight voice, "You were disoriented, that's all." She paused again. "Right?"

John stared. As confusing as this all was, Elizabeth knew him too well to be this oblivious. She was panicking, was probably already thinking up ways to extract her from this situation as quickly as possible. The question remained if John wanted the same thing.

But before he could answer, and god forbid before this conversation had the opportunity to actually go anywhere, the door clanged open. Of course it did. John turned with a scowl at the interruption, but the look on Ronon's face as he rushed in stalled John's reprimand.

"Neski's men," Ronon announced. "They've captured Karim."


	3. Chapter 3

**Part V**

It was time to gear up for their final mission.

Rumor had it that Neski did all his executions swiftly and quietly, so if they planned on getting Karim back whole and unscathed, they had to speed up their timeline. Ronon distributed the armory he'd been amassing for just this occasion, and Rodney went over the specs and layout of the casino.

John clapped his hands together to draw everybody's attention. "Alright boys and girls, we can do this the hard way, or… well, really, there's just the hard way left now. We've got ourselves three goals. One, pull Karim's ass out of the fire. Two, get to the restrictive areas, download the damning evidence and three, get to the safe and clear out enough money to help with Karim's kids medical expenses. So, this is the plan—"

"Oh, thank god," Rodney muttered. "There's a plan. Please tell me it's more sophisticated than painting a tunnel on a side of a mountain and pointing Neski in its direction?"

"Yes, Rodney. You'll like this plan."

"Really? Because this is usually where we have another one of those missions where we storm in and expect to pull off the impossible by sheer dumb luck and a whole lot of ammunition. Then when everything looks like it's about to self-destruct, you all go slack jawed and I have to save everybody."

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth said wearily. "The clocks ticking. And I doubt I have to remind people here that we need to pull all of this off within fifteen minutes, from beginning to end. My transformations never last longer than that, and I doubt yours will either, John."

He nodded briskly, suppressing a grimace. "This is the plan. Rodney runs logistics from back here. Ronon and Teyla, you figure out how to kidnap Neski and his wife. Get them out," he glanced pointedly to Ronon, "but _don't_ kill him. Just babysit them. I go in as Neski and get Karim out." He turned to Elizabeth, locking gazes. "And Neski's wife – what was her name again?"

"Sentra," Teyla answered. "She is… I believe the colloquialism is _a real piece of work_."

John snorted, remembering enough. He licked his lips, debating with himself for just another moment. He couldn't do everything by himself, not with Karim's life at stake. Elizabeth was finally getting what she wanted; John had to let her play her part in this.

"Sentra," John allotted, looking to Elizabeth. "You think you can play her? Get the evidence and the cash out within fifteen?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I'll probably hold up better than you. John, your last transformation wasn't exactly—"

"Don't worry about me," John cut in. "I'll be fine. Can you do this?"

Elizabeth looked to him, the weight of the task he was giving her held in the stare between them. "Absolutely."

"Good. Fifteen minutes," he declared, holding eye contact with her. "In and out."

* * *

The first few steps went off like clockwork.

While Teyla and Ronon went to "pick up" the happy married couple, John concentrated on extending his transformations for as long as he could. During the next two hours, he practiced in front of a mirror, shifting into Neski's form four different times. He'd had to change his shirt twice; the nosebleeds were annoying, but the blinding incapacitation had thankfully faded away.

The longest he could hold the glamour was ten minutes, though – not fifteen. And he couldn't communicate with the others over their internal stream of consciousness either, not at the same time anyway. It was too much, too demanding. Elizabeth could do it, but not John. At least, not yet.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He'd gone on crazier missions, right? Dumbfuck missions that were virtually guaranteed to end in gruesome deaths, and yet here he was anyway. Either he was damn good at what he did, or lady luck just loved him. He suspected it was a bit of both.

Elizabeth walked in through the side door and John froze. Their earlier group meeting notwithstanding, he hadn't had the opportunity to talk with Elizabeth. Especially about their kiss.

Rodney walked in after her. "Ronon and Teyla just come in," Rodney informed hurriedly. "They've got Neski and his wife bound and gagged – and bleeding, actually, but only Neski and only a little."

John took a breath and nodded. "Showtime."

* * *

"Not one word," Elizabeth warned, eyebrow arched dangerously.

Sentra was used to dressing a certain way, and tonight, Elizabeth had traded clothes with the vixen and emerged, dressed up in an exotic leather outfit. What was with the Pegasus people and leather? An overabundance of livestock? Elizabeth had on a black lace-up corset, with a leather jacket and matching skintight pants. Though it didn't reveal skin, it could easily feed a man's fantasies for days. John's, particularly.

Elizabeth went red in the face. "I said, not one word."

John valiantly kept any teasing remarks to himself, though he thought his wolfish grin pretty much said everything. The humor slowly faded, the weight of the situation quickly coming back to the forefront of his mind. "Are you really sure you wanna do this? If you can't, then right now is the last time—"

"John, you ask me that one more time, and I'm gonna shove my fingers through your forehead and convince you that you're a ballerina in love with Rodney."

John paused, quietly disturbed.

Teyla emerged from the back room. "Neski and Sentra are secured. You two should get going."

John nodded, suddenly all business again. Without further delay, John and Elizabeth set off for the casino, just the two of them. The others bunkered down in an abandoned building around the corner, less than three minutes away – half that, if he was running flat out. They shortly arrived at the back alley of Neski's place, but something was bothering John and he couldn't stop obsessing about it, even with everything else they had to contend with.

"Elizabeth, about earlier," he began, licking his lips nervously. "Before Ronon walked in—"

"Not now, John," Elizabeth cut in quickly, a little desperately. "Don't you think we have enough things to worry about?"

He studied her for a beat, realizing she was going to bolt from this conversation every chance she got. He could read her so easily, so clearly after all these years. If there was one thing he knew about Elizabeth, it was that she could rationalize herself into – and out of – anything.

Abruptly, it was like someone had dropped a bucket of ice-cold water over him. He didn't want her to do that with them; this wasn't something he wanted to rationalize away. Not anymore.

Before he could formulate another thought, Elizabeth ended the conversation by turning away and beginning the transformation. He watched her body transform and shift into Sentra, and seconds later he was staring at a stranger's face. It suddenly encapsulated everything she was trying to do – put distance between them. It was disorienting, but John had no choice but to follow in her footsteps, well aware their fifteen minutes were ticking away.

His body shifted, transformed, and felt _weird_. Neski was a short man that had apparently spent too many years overcompensating for it by working out to the extreme. He had a body builder's frame, with long blonde hair in a ponytail. John scowled when the transformation was complete, shifting from foot to foot in discomfort, and tugged down the sleeve of his leather dust jacket.

"Ready?" Elizabeth asked.

Biting his lip, John opened the back door and gestured for Elizabeth to enter first. Sentra was a shorter woman than Elizabeth, and it was weird to stare at some ditzy little redhead and remind himself that this was Elizabeth inside.

As he walked in after her, he couldn't help but be preoccupied by the notion that he had to do something quick to upset the normal balance of things. Otherwise there would be this limbo between him and Elizabeth forever. He realized it was time for him to plan something that was just so typically John Sheppard in execution. It needed to be bold, he decided. Maybe risky.

Entirely stupid, for sure.

"Fifteen minutes," John reminded her in a whisper. "No longer."

The casino was a big place, and John tried to convey an air of arrogance as he strolled into the room. There was a stilted pause when she slipped her hand into his, and John belatedly remembered Sentra's clingy behavior towards her husband. They needed to sell this performance hook, line and sinker.

"Boss!" a man with a buzz-cut called out from the corner. "Where have you been? We've been looking for you!"

"Here and there," John answered vaguely. "Why? What do you need from me?"

Buzz-cut blinked. "You wanted me to… _prepare_ Karim for you."

Elizabeth exchanged a dark look with John, then said, "Go along, Neski. Go attend to your business. I'll go attend to mine."

"Right," John acknowledged, tightly.

Elizabeth turned to leave, but at the last minute, John caught her wrist and spun her around to face him. There was some internal B.S. about justifying this as a good performance, but really John just wanted another opportunity to do _this_ – the right way. He tugged her forward and brought her mouth to his. She made this little surprised sound but he swallowed it whole, lips on lips, hands in her hair, heart thudding away and blood rushing in his ears.

There was no hesitation. No beat for either of them to think.

Eyes closed, he coaxed her lips apart and then slipped his tongue inside, making sure this wasn't the type of kiss that Elizabeth could forget or dismiss easily. He wanted her to _remember_ this, wanted to drive her weak-kneed. All too easily, the spectacle of Neski and Sentra melted away, and it felt like an eternity before he actually realized that she was responding, leaning in to press a flat palm against his chest. Her lips moved with his, just as eagerly, and John took that as a victory.

When he pulled back, it jarred John to see Sentra's face staring back at him, because it was wrong. The bodies were wrong, because that kiss had been all John and Elizabeth, not anyone else. But the eyes, John quickly realized – the eyes were still Elizabeth's. He read a wealth of conflicting emotions there: shock, embarrassment, and, yes, heat she couldn't hide.

He licked his lips, and glanced aside at the guard standing beside them. John cleared his throat roughly, getting back into character. "See you in–" he glanced to his watch, "–a little over thirteen minutes."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I should get going, then."

He watched her slowly turn to leave. The Buzz-cut guy next to him was waiting, a little bemused, but John quickly turned to him and snapped, "Well, lead the way already."

* * *

The walk took longer than John would've liked, and as he entered a dark room in the back of the establishment, he found Karim coughing up blood. It looked like somebody had worked him over with a crowbar. There was an ugly gash above his right eye, and his hands had been rubbed raw where he was tied down to a chair.

Karim lifted his head as John and Buzz-cut strode in. "Neski," he spat, "you miserable piece of filth."

John had to admire Karim's gall. "Guards, uncuff him."

Buzz-cut slanted him a surprised look. "What?"

"I'm escorting him to another place," John said. "Get him up."

Thanks to a particularly brutal leg wound, it was another two minutes before Karim was on his feet and moving towards the door. John glanced to his watch, the seconds ticking by, and best case scenario was that he had five minutes left, six tops.

They began walking, and a tight pressure formed behind John's left eye; the beginning of a headache. He silently cursed, glanced around the unfamiliar hallway, and noted that the turns weren't all that similar to the layout Rodney had scouted. It was all unfamiliar, and that just complicated things even more.

Hopefully, Elizabeth had arrived at her destination by now. Maybe even gotten the info and removed the cash.

"What do want to do with him, boss?"

John tried to wave away the topic. "Whatever I want. Just keep him moving."

Karim glared. "Neski, you are a pathetic man. All this money, all these men you have, and look what you do with it. Only a man with no imagination would—" he grunted, doubling over in pain when Buzz-cut slammed the butt of his rifle into Karim's stomach. "See?" Karim coughed. "A man with no imagination surrounds himself with the same."

Buzz-cut moved to hit him again, but John stepped forward quickly. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! That's enough!" He paused, realizing the words sounded too concerned. "I don't want to damage him too much. Yet."

Buzz-cut grinned. "You got something special planned for him?"

"You could say that," John mused, wryly.

They continued walking, but just as they passed another security door, a tight pain seized his chest. John flinched, warding off a wave of dizziness. He knew exactly what this was; the sudden onslaught of side effects was familiar. He was losing the hold on Neski's body quicker than anticipated.

"Uh, boss, your nose is bleeding."

John quickly removed his handkerchief and double-timed it towards the exit, but this place was like a maze. His vision became unfocused, and light dimmed and alternatively flashed bright before his eyes. Shit. He needed to get Karim out of here immediately. He took a few heavy breaths and tried to control the nanites. They weren't having it.

"Neski?"

John faltered, staggered, and then went down like a house of cards. Buzz-cut was beside him in an instant, but Karim – John really had to hand it to him – took full advantage of the opportunity. He bulldozed into Buzz-cut and took him _down_. There were a few moments of struggle; John registered grunts and screams but his body was beginning to convulse, the hold he had on Neski's form slipping loose like sand through his fingertips. Except, of course, that analogy didn't cover the goddamn excruciating pain.

John screamed, curled up into a ball, only to eventually look up and find Karim staring down at him. Buzz-cut was unconscious, and Karim had a canon-blaster in hand; the aim directed at John's head. There was murder in his eyes.

"Neski," Karim fumed. "You have ruined my life! Run my family out of town! You have beaten me like an animal, but no—"

"Karim," John tried, gasping for air. "Let me explain—"

"No!" Karim barked harshly. "The others were right. With a man like you, there is no civility. There can be no justice. You only understand one thing. Only one thing!"

John had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Wait!" he crocked. "Don't do this, Karim. It's me – John!"

Karim froze for a second, then shook off the statement for the absurdity it sounded like. "Neski—"

"No, not Neski! Not Neski! Hear me out!" he coughed, speaking through the pain. "Listen to me, I'm here to get you out. Buddy, pal, Karim! It's me, John. I'm in a disguise!"

Karim froze for a beat, then stepped back. "I suppose I was wrong earlier," he whispered softly.

John released a breath. "Thank you."

"It seems you do have an imagination after all, Neski."

John groaned, which turned into another tremor of pain and it was like his whole nervous system was going into overload. Maybe he'd pushed it too much today? Done too many transformations? This was worse than any of his previous pains.

"Look," John tried. "Even if I am Neski, it doesn't matter. You're not a murderer, Karim. That much I know about you—"

And then it really didn't matter what he said, because John's body was convulsing, electricity shooting through his body like lightning and he screamed. He may have even blacked out at one point; John couldn't tell. It all happened so fast, so painfully, that the next coherent thing John thought was, _I can't be dead. I wouldn't be in this much pain._

"John?" Karim gasped, mouth gaping open.

John groaned bitterly. "_Now_ he believes me."

* * *

They made quite the pair, Karim and John, both hobbling out the back door with their own respective injuries. For Karim, it was the leg wound and the beating Neski's men had given him. For John, it was his body feeling like something had eaten him alive and then spat him back out in disgust. Repeatedly. He groaned, moving through the back alley, and promised himself that he would never, ever let Elizabeth talk him into—

_Elizabeth_.

He stopped short, then abruptly remembered that Elizabeth was supposed to meet him back with the others in the abandoned factory around the corner. He quickened his pace, glancing down at the watch. Five minutes late. Elizabeth was probably already back there.

They finally made it back to the factory, and Ronon was guarding the outside. He threw an arm around John's shoulder and half-carried him inside, where John found Rodney and Teyla, the former typing furiously as if his life depended on it. Karim collapsed in the spare chair, and John threw a searching gaze around the room.

Elizabeth wasn't here.

"Where is she?" John demanded. "Where is Elizabeth?"

Teyla raised a placating hand. "She is all right. We are still in radio contact with her," she pointed nebulously to her head. "She is fine, but there's been a change of plan."

"What?"

Rodney was too busy typing like a madman, so Teyla rose and continued to explain, "She downloaded the evidence, and went to the safe, as planned. As she was withdrawing the necessary funds for Karim's son, she found something else of interest."

John stared. "What the hell could be important enough for her to risk staying longer?"

Rodney finally looked up and answered with near maniacal glee. "A ZPM."

* * *

  
**Part VI**

Goddamn it, they never learned.

That was the problem with intellectuals like Rodney or Elizabeth; oh sure, they were smart, but they could also be really fucking dumb too. They never knew when enough was enough. They always tried to reach for the impossible, get in that extra bit of knowledge or technology, suffering under the delusion that they could get away with it all because they were smart enough or lucky enough.

John knew better. Luck ran out, it always did. Rodney and Elizabeth should have learned this lesson before, during that fateful mission all those months ago with the Asurians and the city they'd tried to infiltrate. That was how this entire mess started in the first place. If Rodney hadn't suggested trying to stick around longer than necessary for something they didn't immediately need, then Elizabeth wouldn't have been captured by Oberoth in the first place.

She would never have been imprisoned. She would never have been tortured. _They_ wouldn't have been created. None of this would be happening if Rodney and Elizabeth had learned in the first place that some things just weren't worth the risk.

But Rodney typed on, and Elizabeth was apparently refusing to leave the casino without the ZPM. John wanted to throttle something in frustration. The ZPM was nothing more than a tertiary goal, something they didn't even need!

She'd found the prized artifact housed in the Casino safe, along with the money. It held its own security measures, and Rodney had spent the better part of the last ten minutes trying to break through the barriers with his remote access. It wasn't surprising that Neski had a ZPM, actually. Not when this planet had so many ties with the Ancients.

But this was greed, John fumed. Greed that had already killed Elizabeth once.

"Relax," Ronon said. "Teyla and I will go in if an extraction is needed. You just need to sit here and recoup."

"Elizabeth is doing fine!" Rodney added. "She says don't worry. She still looks like Sentra, and no one suspects a thing."

John scowled, swiveling his gaze over to the corner of the room where Neski and Sentra were bound and gagged. The redhead sent a fuming glare back at John, and though he had learned several rude expressions from a variety of planets he'd visited over the many years, John opted to merely raise his middle finger and flip her off.

He went back to trying to communicate with Elizabeth over their shared consciousness, but his head was too thrashed. He couldn't manage it, not in his condition. He didn't like not being able to communicate with her; hated the silence when the others could hear her just fine.

"I'm going back in there," John declared, uncaring about what the others had agreed on. Enough was enough. "Ronon, Teyla, back me up."

"Wait," Rodney said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It'll just be reconnaissance. You and Karim will be our safety-net. Anything goes wrong, I give you the signal and you use Neski and Sentra as bargaining chips and get us out."

"What's the signal?"

"I imagine they'll be lots of yelling involved."

* * *

And then John was back at Neski's again, except this time he couldn't manage the glamour. But this time, they went in with guns. There was a reason they hadn't tried this maneuver in the first place. Within two minutes of loitering near the building, heavily armed, their presence raised suspicions with nearby guards.

"Elizabeth is not happy," Teyla told him, her own displeasure also apparent. "She said she had everything under control."

John rolled his eyes. "That's what happens before the shit hits the fan. Look, we just need to make it to—"

He stopped short. Behind Teyla, John caught sight of something that might, probably, give them some trouble. A team of six security guards came in, heavily armed.

John dropped his voice to a whisper, "Teyla, take the two on the right. Ronon, the two on the left. Leave the middle guys for me."

And then there was gunfire. Lots and lots of gunfire.

* * *

They lost.

John winced in pain as he was forced to his knees, and beside him Teyla and Ronon shared similar mistreatment. Buzz-cut was back again, this time sporting a black eye, and he looked to be taking his resentment out on them.

"Our boss will be back soon," Buzz-cut declared. "And then we'll take care of you all. Make an example out of you. This place is a fort. You cannot steal from it."

"Well-said," a polished feminine voice rang out.

John's head shot up to find Elizabeth – in Sentra's leather-clad body – striding down the hallway. She had a heavy duffle bag thrown over her left shoulder, and John's eyes drew to the bag, wondering what was inside it.

"No one can steal from this place," Elizabeth said, in Sentra's haughty voice. "What did you expect? To just walk in here and rob the place blind, and no one would suspect a thing?"

There was a twinkle in her eyes. Elizabeth was enjoying herself, just a little. He supposed she had the right to say I-told-you-so; she hadn't needed his help. Hell, it looked like things were playing out exactly the opposite.

Still, he preferred if she did her lording over him at a later time, especially when canon-blasters weren't aimed at his forehead. Besides, he recognized the sheen of sweat on Elizabeth's temple. She was loosing control over her form; it was just a matter of time.

"Arise," Elizabeth ordered. "Let them go."

Buzz-cut blanched. "What?"

"No one steals from Neski," Elizabeth continued, and the irony was thick enough to choke. "To make sure that remains the case, we hired these individuals to try. Neski and I wanted to test your security measures." She smiled at buzz-cut, all flirtatious and coy. "And we are pleased. They didn't even make it passed the front room."

Buzz-cut blinked in confusion. "This was a set-up?"

"Consider it a precautionary test," Elizabeth explained. "You did marvelously."

Buzz-cut paused, then slowly smiled as he acknowledged the compliment. "It is my pleasure to serve."

After a pause, Elizabeth prodded with some impatience in her voice. "Release them. Now."

"Oh," Buzz-cut said, then lurched to obey her command. "Yes, ma'am, quickly."

"Is Neski still with you?" Elizabeth asked, coyly, sending John a pointed look.

John licked his lips as he rose, exchanging looks with Ronon and Teyla. "Uh, yeah. He's at our headquarters. I can take you to him, if you want?"

Elizabeth smirked. "I'd like that."

Buzz-cut stepped forward. "I'll accompany you—"

"No need!" Elizabeth insisted quickly, and then took a steadying breath. "I'll manage on my own."

Elizabeth joined their group, and together, they walked side-by-side right out the front door. It was a little surreal, and in a certain light, a little bit funny. All of Neski's power, all of his money, all of his heavily armed guards, and Elizabeth had managed to get them out just using her words. And, yeah, okay, one very cool glamour. Still.

John really shouldn't have been remotely surprised.

Elizabeth tossed the duffle bag over to John. "The payment for your services," she said wryly, tossing John a glare.

John cleared his throat sheepishly, and as they were approaching Rodney and Karim, he unzipped the duffle bag to find several items: a small Ancient disk with information on it; a couple dozen stacks of bundled money; and at the bottom of the bag rested something John thought he'd never see again.

One shiny ZPM.

* * *

"I can't begin to thank you," Karim said, the following day as he bid them farewell. "I've already taken the money and enrolled my son in the research program. Ancestor's willing, he'll get the treatment he needs."

John grinned. "I told you I could help you, right? Aren't you glad you listened to me now?"

They had already left Neski and his redheaded wife on the steps of the local sheriff's office, wrapped up neatly in rope, all present-like, with the damning Ancient disk alongside them. When the police found it and uncovered the shady practices of Neski's casino establishment, it was guaranteed to land Neski in jail for several long decades.

Today was a good day.

"Where are you headed now?" Karim asked.

John traded looks with his team, thinking only of the ZPM and where that item could be most well-served. Atlantis was like a beacon to them, calling them home. The trek was going to take months, but for the first time in a long while, John felt hopeful about it. The ZPM was a way in with the IOA; a bargaining chip that they could utilize to make sure they got heard and treated with respect. And really, that was all they needed – their foot in the door.

The rest, John hoped, would work itself out.

Elizabeth traded looks with John. "Hopefully," she answered, "we're headed home."

* * *

  
**Epilogue**

The icy air whipped around John as he drew his coat tighter around him. Slowly, he strolled across to the parapet of the building, taking in the view from the rooftop. John took off his tinted sunglasses, and then looked back out at the setting sun. It was beautiful here, there was no denying that. The horizon of the Tenitian homeworld stretched onwards as far as the eye could see, a backdrop to colors of blue and red and hints of purple skyline.

He braced his hands against the side banister and looked out over the fields beyond the building. Tenitia was the first of seven planets on the set course towards Atlantis. The planet was mostly agriculture, and in the distance there were blades of long green grass that came up to knee length. A shimmering pond wasn't far off, either.

Yep. Definitely beautiful. Still, John probably wasn't going to miss it much in the morning when they left.

He blew warm breath into his hands when he heard the rooftop door open behind him. John didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. Elizabeth walked quietly over to the railings, bracing her arms against the edge. John had a sudden rush of déjà vu, except the sunset they usually watched was on another planet – another city.

"Hey," she greeted. "You should be resting. Nights are short here and we leave at the first crack of dawn tomorrow."

He grunted at the old news. "What are you doing up, then?"

Elizabeth's cheeks reddened. "Actually, I walked into my room to discover Teyla already had company for the night."

It took a second for the implications of her words to sink in. _Go, Rodney_, John silently cheered, stunned. He still wasn't quiet used to the idea of Rodney and Teyla together, but he was warming to the idea. Still, a bit of jealousy reared its ugly head. Teyla and Rodney had gotten together so effortlessly, while John seemed destined to be stuck in limbo with Elizabeth forever.

He licked his lips nervously, turning back to the sunset. "Teyla and Rodney. Please tell me you didn't actually _see_anything when you walked in on them?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Thank god, no." She hugged her arms to her stomach, keeping herself warm. "Not really, anyway. They're cute together. The last few days have been eventful, I'll say that."

John nodded lightly. "Eventful for all. I got beat up a few times, there was an explosion, a few bad calls, and there was that brief period where I was a blond." He paused, taking a deep breath for courage. "And, yeah, there was a kiss too. Two kisses, actually. Plural."

He didn't need to slant a glance towards Elizabeth to feel her stiffen beside him. They'd been avoiding this conversation for days, but during that same time, John had been building his nerve, coming to slow realization that the normal situation had flipped. He was going to have to force them to talk, not the other way around.

"So," John began, turning to her when Elizabeth fell silent as a mouse. "What are they?"

"What?"

"Your reasons."

Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow, confused. "My reasons for…"

"Not doing this," John answered bluntly, waving a hand between them. "You. Me. Us. More kissing."

Elizabeth looked floored, clearly caught off-guard by his nonchalance. "Uh, John—"

"'Cause I'm sure you've got a list of reasons, right? A big long rational list of things that would go wrong if we ever got together. What are they? Lemme guess. It'll put too much pressure on us? It'll compromise the decision-making process? It'll cause global warming? What, Elizabeth? Hit me with your best shot."

Elizabeth didn't answer him, just stared. John knew she couldn't give him an answer. All the old reasons for not doing this were null and void. There wasn't a command structure standing between them. No IOA or SGC. No _Atlantis_. There was nothing in their way… nothing, of course, except John and Elizabeth and enough emotional baggage to sink a small submarine.

As the silence thickened, John's nerve began to abandon him. He'd talked himself into starting this, but now the exposure was turning painful and awkward. Every second that passed by felt like a year, and John knew he had to hold steady but his confidence was wavering. Maybe he'd fooled himself into thinking she felt the same this entire time? Maybe Elizabeth didn't want him the same way he wanted her? His stomach dropped, the bite of rejection slowly darkening his face, and John felt vaguely sick. God, what if she really—

Her eyes fluttered shut. "John, you're projecting." She looked overwhelmed. "It's not like that. Of course I care about you."

"Then what?" he demanded. "Elizabeth, don't act like you're surprised by this. You knew. We both always knew. Didn't you… haven't you ever thought about me that way?"

Elizabeth warned faintly, "John, don't."

"Haven't you?" he pressed stubbornly.

She paused, then admitted in a faint voice, "Only every day I was imprisoned by Oberoth. The thought of you was what saved me from him."

John's ability to form words fled him. This was it. They could act on their feelings or talk themselves out of it, but it came down to whatever happened next. His eyes drew to her parted lips, and the urge to kiss her again turned sharply fierce.

Except she stepped back, away from him. "It can't be that simple."

"Why not?" John demanded.

"Because," she said, frustrated. "John, I have no list. There's only one reason I have for not doing this. Just one. Aren't you scared of what this could do to our friendship? You're… you're not just my friend, John. You're my _best_ friend. I don't want to lose that."

"You won't."

Her face began to crumple. "But you don't know that. I've lost too much. I've lost too much."

And he stared at her, suddenly realizing that the woman he always knew to overcome her fears still had one monster left to slay. This wasn't just about him or her, John realized. This was about everything she'd been through: losing Atlantis, losing her body, losing her _life_. Something sharply possessive and protective surged in John.

He reacted to that. "Elizabeth, I know all about that fear. Don't you know why I can't sleep at night? It's because of nightmares."

Elizabeth's face softened. "I know. I have them too, John."

He shook his head because she wasn't getting it. "All the rest – the nanites, the torture, losing Atlantis – all of it, it's nothing in comparison to… goddamn it, Elizabeth. Don't you get it? The worst thing I could live through, the worst thing I could possibly think of, is losing you again."

Her eyes snapped up to him, clearly overwhelmed. Since he was still projecting, John knew she could _feel_ the intensity of his words. The truth behind them was undeniable. He'd spent the last few months in this body, cursing every second of it, but the one thing that made it all worth it, the one thing that got him through each and every day, was the reassurance of Elizabeth's presence at his side.

Give him a million more nanites. Take away any hope of Atlantis, Earth, all of it. John didn't care. He just needed one thing – well, technically, four things. Elizabeth and his team. Beyond that, everything else faded to the background.

"You're never going to lose me as a friend," he promised her. "Not if I have anything to say about it. So, if that's the only thing holding you back, well, then… I guess you're out of excuses, Elizabeth." He stepped forward, bringing them face-to-face, inches apart. "We both are."

Without another thought, he reached forward and threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck. He stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, the gesture tiny but possessive and she released a soft exhale. He edged closer, their breath mingled, and he could feel the erratic pulse beat in her throat. John gave her plenty of time to resist, but she wasn't pulling back. Her face held uncertainty, but she wasn't stopping him.

She was waiting to be convinced, he realized.

He'd always been the man to do that.

John tugged her forward and to his lips, and then they were kissing. Lips parted, tongues moved and tangled, and he moaned, or she did. It didn't matter because they met halfway, and John felt a surge of emotion unlike any other a kiss had induced. Elizabeth touched his chest, an open palm flat over his shirt, and John knew he couldn't go back from this. Not from this.

The press of her breasts, the soft curve of her hip, her scent – he drew it all to memory, greedily and possessively cataloging the sensations. When she finally pulled back, eyes heavy-lidded, her face was lightly flushed and the sight gave him a thrill. _He'd done that._ John reached out to brush his fingers along her jaw, and her eyes slid closed. For just for a second, she turned her face into his palm and John knew he'd gotten through her defenses just as much as she'd gotten through his.

He wondered if Elizabeth needed a place to stay tonight, considering Rodney had taken her spot in Teyla's room.

"John," Elizabeth said with a small laugh, "you're still projecting."

John smirked. "I know."

* * *

  
_fin_


End file.
